Another Naruto OCSI Insert
by Gin-san needs his parfait
Summary: ANBU Captain Peacock knew he had the worst luck when he received the mission scroll to go after Danzo. To kill him. Yeah. That was going to end really well.
1. Chapter 1

Okay so... I've been reading loads of OC insert stories, many of them in the Naruto fandom. I decided to add a short one. The OC is Haruno Sakurai, and quite a few years older than his little half-sister Sakura. The rest is self-explanatory.

Setting: Danzō has escaped both Sasuke and Pein. However, he is followed.

The POV switches. I hope it's obvious whose it is.

* * *

There he is, Danzō, waiting.

Awaiting his opponent.

And who have they sent? The most irritating of them all.

As a child, particularly unsuited to become Root. As a soldier, particularly slippery. As a captain, particularly insolent. As an assassin, the best.

But Danzō is no unsuspecting target.

He's the one who will snuff out that shining light that covers itself with such garish garlands. And he will expand his shadows.

* * *

Sakurai opens his eyes. Feels his face smile. Perhaps, finally, this will be his end? The end to everything, his most sought-after prize and never has it been granted.

But the Uchiha injured the old man good.

Sakurai stands a goddamn chance. Just his luck. Fuck.

Well. Well, maybe he'll get to see his little sister again. And that annoying little bugger of a brother. And… Itachi?

Fine.

Fine, he's got hope now. He'll make it count. If it costs him a leg, an ear, his eyes. He'll make it count.

* * *

It begins explosively. Two tags, their target Danzō's head and arm, respectively.

Predictably dodged. A tantou waiting for Danzō, slicing where he would have been, had he not had the advantage of _sight_ , even on his 'blind' side. The trappings of genjutsu avoided, Sakurai moves to _fuck that motherfucking, evil, dick-fingered betrayer up_.

That's what he's named the sequence of ninjutsu, tags, kunai, shuriken and stabbing motions to his opponent's genitalia in his head anyway.

Abort. Shit. Dodge, phew. Fuck. Double fuck.

Slice. Lucky. One eye gone. Cost: almost lost his own, but with luck only another scar in his face. Thank you, ANBU mask, you served me well.

They break apart. Assessing. The Former Advisor to the Hokage scowls. Well. No time like the present.

Sakurai capitalises on his opponent's irritation as much as he can, without losing a limb for his troubles. With some seriously impressive acrobatics, he manages a stab at Danzō's neck. It stretches and bends weirdly for a man his age. Stupidly fit old fucker.

* * *

Danzō had not known that the ANBU captain was this good. Clearly, on any mission with Root agents, he'd held back significantly.

Irritant.

Feeling Genjutsu once more brushed aside easily, Danzō decides he needed to up his game, as his former teammate had been fond of saying.

* * *

That kitten-eating, neck-wringing bag of rotten meat!

Sakurai spits the blood in his mouth from the hardened blast of pure chakra he received to his side in Danzō's face, managing to aim perfectly for his nostrils. He even remembered to pop the small capsule of poison he'd immunised himself against before enforcing his spitting with a bit of water transformation.

A slowly-setting-in-advantage gained, in return for a cracked rib.

He was lucky he'd had them broken before. They'd re-grown stronger with medical ninjutsu. He was lucky to have never stopped conditioning his body.

Fucking Shinigami. Sakurai doesn't want to do it all over again.

* * *

He's been poisoned. Danzō reared back too late.

No matter. He will finish this.

He is going to _crush that little bird's neck_ -

Another eye, lost to a toenail.

A toenail.

Who even-

Slice. Defend. Block. _Dodge_ the large doton jutsu. Oh. ANBU Captain Peacock has it _coming_.

* * *

Rib definitely broken after that.

But a limping opponent.

Small victories, Peacock-chan. Small victories.

Squelch. An eye popped. Urgh. So. Yucky.

A kick to the jaw barely dodged, a slice to the retreating leg prevented from going deep by… what? Weird fibres.

Only skin attacks, then, or ones meant to shatter bones. Super.

* * *

Danzō dies with a knife in his one original eye.

The unmasked ANBU lets the handle go, stumbles a step backwards, lets the body drop. Goes to his knees. Laughs through the blood in his mouth. Again. He survived again.

Fucking Shinigami.

* * *

That's how Konoha's Team Ten find him. On his knees, broken mask scattered about the destroyed clearing, a councilman's dead body in front of him, and feeling sorry for himself.

When Shikamaru meets this shinobi's eyes, this man who has killed Danzō, whom even Orochimaru had not managed to kill that one time, he sees pity. Because Shikamaru will be going through much more, and Sakurai knows it.

"ANBU-san," the Yamanaka speaks, no note of uncertainty in her voice, but he can see it in her face.

He chuckles. "Don't have my mask. Haruno will do. It's not been a secret for a long time now."

They knew about Sakura's elder brother. But not that he was more capable than a genin.

He rises. Slowly, carefully, and they can see blood and tears in his armour. He procures a scroll. From where none of them really know. Seals the body inside. Tosses it to Shika. "Don't lose that, Nara. Sandaime will want it to put on his shelf, the old codger."

He spits blood on the ground. Straightens from his slouch. "Git."

Chouji offers assistance.

"If I take you up on that, lad, you'll be carrying me home. And yer in no condition for that."

So he's aware of their injuries even if they've been dressed.

"I expect there to be some interference. So you had better run fast. I'll cover your backs."

"Who?"

"Anyone wanting a doujutsu. Didn't get all the eyes, see? Fucking waste of saggy flesh. Hairy ballsack-fondling paedophiliac. Soul-sucking yabbering _traitor_ …" He continues on. His three impressionable companions listen with growing amusement to his insults.

"I've gotta get _another_ bloody mask from the commander, now." It's devolved into complaining. "My sixth! I'll be the laughing stock of ANBU. Little shits don't know how hard it is to keep the things intact when you're going up against sharingans and byakugans and bandages behaving like they oughtn't."

Then, the questioning begins. "What've you been up to anyway? You look like you picked a fight with Gai, or something. Or, you know, provoked Anko. That woman can't take a gentle ribbing – heh – if her life… well. _My_ life, anyway. Still gotta get her back for that."

Shikamaru, having committed every insult to his mind for the past few hours, decides to tell the man. It isn't like he wouldn't be hearing of it, anyway.

* * *

Back in Konoha, ANBU Captain Peacock gives his report to his Hokage in a hospital room, chatting up a nurse all the while.

Really, Sandaime is impressed.

Truly. He hadn't known Sakurai Haruno's exact capabilities in a long time, and to know he could kill Danzo, even injured, was quite something. Especially with all those doujutsu.

When he's done reiterating the fight, and explaining that there were curiously no confrontations on the way to the village, Sandaime smiles.

Haruno's eyes widen in panic. He knows what's coming next. He lifts his hand and points at the old man wearing the Hokage's hat. "No! No, you can't promote me again! I'll end up like Kakashi! With children to teach! And… and _fondness_ and- no! I'll- I'll run away! And hide!"

He forms a handseal with the accusing hand, and is gone. With a half-second delay, a single leaf puffs out of thin air and floats gently to the mattress.

The people waiting outside – his father, mother, ANBU team within the village, and Team Ten – have all heard his outburst. They also get to hear the Hokage laugh.

When finally someone pokes their head in, neither man is to be found.

"He's resisting promotion again," his father sighs. "That boy…"

"Where did we go wrong?" his mother agrees. "His dream was to be a Career Genin of all things, retire and go to the countryside to sell sweets."

He huffs a laugh. "Look at him now."

"Sounds as ambitious as you, Shika," Ino teases her teammate.

Chouji chuckles. "Worse, if you ask me. Shika's a chuunin already. Haruno only became one just before the exams."

"Urgh! I wouldn't have wanted to be his teammate. _Worse_ than Shika."

Behind her, the ANBU exchange glances. One coughs, and it sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

"Hey. The man's an ANBU Captain. I wouldn't count me out yet," Shika protests, turning towards the masked ninja behind him. "When was he promoted to Captain?"

"Six years in the ranks. So… fourteen," one answers succinctly.

Silence meets their words.

"Er…" Ino manages before deciding that she'd rather not comment after all.


	2. Chapter 2

There wasn't any point to think on why.

Sakurai knew it. But it was all he could do to distract himself. In hospital, all there was for distraction was the nurses and doctors moving around the hallways and rooms. And the patients.

He could only sense them, of course. And he'd never been a good sensor.

Well. Good enough to survive in ANBU for more than two decades.

He laughed to himself. Just enough skill to survive whatever life threw at him. And he suspected now that whatever life was to throw things at him, the Shinigami was guiding its motion. All to prevent…

Sakurai didn't even know what.

He'd thought it'd be the massacre of the Uchiha. Anyone with eyes and ears in the right places knew that things were going to end badly. And the Uchiha always had been too prideful to actually use their dojutsu against an enemy they underestimated.

But even restraining Itachi hadn't helped. After all, it didn't take much to make his little brother believe that Itachi was doing the massacring. Well. That wasn't true. It took enough bloodshed and pain with sufficient evidence to persuade him. And everyone telling him that it had been his brother's technique.

Like Sakurai couldn't have mimicked Itachi's style perfectly. Not that he did. Often. At least, he hadn't on that particular night.

He'd let his former subordinate go, of course.

Itachi had been a sweet boy, after all, and Sakurai never did tell anyone where he'd locked him up for the night or that he had at all.

They kept in contact, like old friends who corresponded via letters. He hadn't looked Itachi in the eye personally for over five years. They only knew what was going on in their lives – and Sasuke's – because Sakurai was capable of sending out shadow clones that lasted longer than a week.

He hadn't let the village know the extent of his capabilities for a long time now.

And it would still be a secret. After all, there was evidence of severe injuries before Danzou encountered him – and who was to say how much chakra he'd had left then, to sustain all those dojutsu.

He hadn't been cautious enough to keep his tongue in check when he first spotted the trio of young Konoha nin. Complained about his mask. He only hoped they were not as anal about recounting every statement their comrades made in their reports. Non-ANBU rarely were. But you never knew. Especially with Yamanaka. Or Nara. Or Akimichi. They talked a lot over food. So, really, Sakurai had made a bit of a silly mistake.

It had been a similar mistake that had made it impossible for him to remain a genin back when he'd subdued that missing nin in the hot springs on his way back from that courier mission for ANBU that he'd been doing as part of a team of career-genin. It was common practise to relax in hot springs whenever there was an opportunity. Not his fault that he'd been drunk when that missing nin had attempted to murder him for being a Konoha shinobi.

And the apprentice hadn't been very hard to put down either.

He'd been thirteen or so. Just a bit younger than Sakura was now. The apprentice, not Sakurai.

He almost shed a tear for the loss of his title, then.

Instead, he'd gone back to his drink. His temporary teammates had seen, of course. They could handle the clean-up. He didn't much care about the bounties. With their calibre, it couldn't be much in any case. He'd amassed enough wealth that he could have opened that sweets-shop he'd dreamed about once upon a time thrice over and lived until he was a hundred-and-four.

Could've even put a few children into the world and fed and educated them.

Not, that he ever would. They'd have to become ninja in the end, no matter who was head of the village, because that was the kind of world this was. So no children.

He hadn't wanted to be near Sakura at first either, he recalled. Back then, he'd still thought he could taint people with his mere presence. Teenage hormones had made him a bit melodramatic.

In the end, he'd been there enough to inspire her to want to become a ninja. He'd cried the night she told him. Then he'd moved on and taught her how to find her chakra. It'd saved his life often, after all. No point in letting her get killed for not being competent enough in the area that civilian-raised children lagged behind in the most.

He'd thought then, without the reserves for a ninjutsu specialist, she'd be put on a support team, or intelligence gathering. Or medic. While she had become the last one, she'd been the one child fucked-over enough to land on a team with the supposedly last Uchiha and his otou… the Namikaze… er, Uzumaki.

Namikaze Minato had been a brilliant commander. Sakurai had been stationed in Iwa with the man as part of the ANBU guard for that headquarters. He'd also been the one to always have the most accurate news from Konoha. After all, he'd taught himself sealing enough to have a small system of bugs set up in the mission office. It looked like a smudge. Take that, Hyuuga, Uchiha, Sakurai had always known they saw too much dirt in other people's homes to want to look at stains for too long. In any case, the man hadn't questioned where the intel came from. But he'd played cards enough with Sakurai that he was regularly updated.

Well. Sakurai didn't share everything, of course.

He'd left out certain things. He told him of the good news, and some of the bad. But what Sakurai heard was largely bad. He supposed that while the man knew, he also knew that Sakurai would not tell him anything at all if he pressed for more than was given freely.

Sakurai had always been a stubborn person.

He took orders only so far as he felt they had been stated.

And because he was good enough, he got away with it.

That was one of the nicer features that Konoha had over the other villages. If you were good enough, you were allowed more freeway. At least, when you were trusted. Sakurai had never been mistrusted by the village.

So far. That not-dying thing Danzo had pulled off thrice had been rather annoying. He couldn't be sure how much Konoha had known of the man's abilities with those eyes. Sakurai didn't even know the name of the technique.

It bothered him. But he had another ten minutes before he would follow his urge to leave the hospital. He always gave it ten minutes more, after all. No one could say he was more paranoid than Panda. No one.

He wondered whom they'd set upon him for… checking up on his mental state after almost dying, as they tended to call the routine screening for traitorous actions these days. When he'd started out they'd called it 'just in case'. He'd done a few of those. For almost all the active ANBU forces. Never for Root, though.

Which was how he'd finally decided that whatever they did there, he was going to make sure it would never bite him in the arse.

He had accomplished that, to an extent. He'd been able to distinguish them from one another rather well, before they'd been scattered. That was on the top of his list of things to do once he left hospital. Find out where those little machines were now and what the Hokage wanted to do with them.

He suspected that he wouldn't have them all murdered.

Most of ANBU was busy, after all, and the regular forces never really did get over killing indiscriminately of age.

Besides, they could use every pair of capable hands. Ninja were never anything less than practical about these kinds of things.

Sakurai had just determined where he would begin his investigation when he sensed his little sister's chakra enter his range. Well. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this conversation. She'd been the one to drag him back to the hospital when he'd left to escape the promotion.

Scary lady, his little sister. When he was low on chakra, in any case.

She wasn't alone. Hatake was with her.

Sakurai wondered what he'd want with him. They'd run some missions together back when he'd still been ANBU, but Sakurai and him had never been on a squad together. They knew each other peripherally and as was usually the case, Sakurai knew more about the man than the other way around, genius or not.

They entered and he watched them carefully. Both still rather starved-looking. Not physically, but for affection.

Kind of sad. All ninja who weren't married with children were. Some even then.

Sakurai had been aware of his own cravings form the very beginning. He'd also known that if he ever found anyone he'd want to share affection with to the level that he needed, he'd run in the opposite direction.

"'Sup?" He greeted when his sister went to check his vitals. He was fine. For an injured person recovering from the kind of damage he'd taken.

"You're looking better," Sakura stated, somehow less than pleased about this.

Evidently, he wasn't going to get any news from her.

"So…" he stared at her teacher as one eye stared back. "How's your yellow teammate?" He asked his sister. If Hatake stayed with him, then it meant that he was suddenly deemed far more dangerous than before the whole debacle. Or… well, the Hokage decided to let him know that they knew. He'd handed him that blasted mission, after all. Solo S-rank.

Right…

"Naruto's fine," Sakura stated, also upset about this.

"Er…" Sakurai hesitated, "And you?"

"Fine," her tone was icy.

He briefly looked at her teacher again. "Er…"

He hesitated for another long, drawn-out moment. "Are you sure?"

She looked ready to strangle him.

He pursed his lips. Better not ask again. He crossed his ankles, ignoring the feeling of fresh skin stretching a bit too much.

"Nii-san! Put your legs back how they belong, you know this isn't good for their healing!"

Before he could, she had already done it for him. She'd gotten competent at that. An accomplished ninja-wrangler she'd become. He sighed. "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?"

"You can't go home," she stated flatly. No 'yet'.

"At all?" he watched her face carefully.

"Not for another couple days at least."

"Hm…" he said, looking at her. She wasn't inexperienced enough to squirm.

On the outside.

"They're searching my apartment, aren't they?"

She twitched, trying to suppress a reaction.

He laughed softly. "They won't be happy to find my attempts at creative writing."

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not porn," he reassured, seeing her relax slightly. "That's already been done."

"What then?"

"Well. If it becomes relevant, you'll know," he said. It was a bit of philosophy, a bit of story-telling that he remembered from his old world and a bit of… social critique. He worried a bit about that last one.

Sakura looked like she'd like to hit him if he weren't still covered in bandages holding things in their proper places.

"Nii-san," she said dangerously, "If I find out that the interrogation department stumbled upon your drunken ramblings put to paper, wasting everyone's time while-"

"Ah," he said when she cut herself off. "Well… they kind of are. Mostly. I mean… I was usually coherent enough to hold a brush properly."

"You're ANBU. You can subdue missing nin while dangerously intoxicated without a scratch to you, you can hold a shitty brush in whichever state you still have hands!"

He pursed his lips again. "Well. They can skip the incoherent parts, then."

She was about to reply, when her teacher coughed delicately. She ignored him. "I've heard you give a report to the Hokage while in severe pain from surgery and under almost dangerous amounts of painkillers. Like any of it will be incoherent, you waste of space!"

"Sakura-chan," he said, scandalised, "Since when do you care about who-"

Another cough.

"-does which work in this village? Is something wrong with Naruto after all?"

"No! I told you there wasn't!"

He was about to say that there must be something else going on with her then, when her teacher managed to get a word in. "The texts are why I'm here," he stated, sounding resigned. "After taking one look at the stuff, the interrogation department decided that you were insane and needed to be watched."

"Er," Sakurai said. "I always thought I was rather stable."

"You…" Hatake didn't seem to be able to finish the sentence.

"You're really, really not," Sakrua said. "As in, the least stable individual I know."

"But… that Uchiha's your teammate. Sakura, you really…" almost unable to finish his own sentence, disappointed as he'd be in himself, he foraged on, "Think that I'm less stable than the person who's determined to murder everyone who doesn't want him to murder his i- tachi."

He'd almost said innocent. Absently, he dispelled the layer of genjutsu that made him want to speak more without disturbing the rest.

"I'm hurt," he added after a long silence, to state the obvious.

"Your own fault," she insisted.

"But… I never was that insane. I mean…"

He trailed off, sinking into his own thoughts, aware of the exchange of glances between teacher and student.

"Nii-san?"

"Mmh," he said, thinking of how unfair it was. He was perfectly stable for his circumstances. Not many people were reborn after all. Who could claim complete sanity after that? The stakes had been set against him from the very beginning.

"Nii-san, you're not under suspicion or anything. They're just… deciding whether to allow you to continue serving in ANBU."

"What?"

She remained silent, perfectly aware that he'd heard her.

"What…" he slowly lifted his gaze to the Hatake's lone eye. "Do you think they'll decide?"

The man seemed to droop. "Probably jonin promotion and then a team of genin to distract you."

"Is… is that what they did to you?" A very new kind of terror set into Sakurai's bones as he looked at Hatake. He whispered, "They threw genin at you?"

Sakura huffed. "Don't make it out to sound so horrible."

Sakurai looked at her with fear. "You… Sakura-chan, it would make me responsible for the survival of three small humans and their growth in strength and character. I stand before the choice of making them competent enough to murder everyone in their path, or making them just incompetent enough to never…"

"To never what?"

"Fulfil their dreams," he settled on. Ironic that that had been his dream when he'd been little. Suddenly, he had an idea and looked at Hatake.

"I tried to retire when they did it to me."

Damn. "Sakura-chan," he said imploringly, "I need you to… amputate a foot!"

"What! No!"

"The left one, please! That toe never quite healed right, you know? It's less perfect. It should be the left one that goes. Heh, the foot will go."

Hatake snorted softly while Sakura decided on a spot of Sakurai's body that would heal if she hit it.

"No one has made any decisions yet, you moron! And I would never amputate your left foot without a proper pre-existing condition!"

"Then the right one, it's better than the left, but I can live on without it."

"No!"

"I… would really prefer the feet, Sakura-chan. I need my hands to work in a sweets shop. It's just more practical if I have them."

"No one's amputating anything! You'd still be able to teach anyway!"

Sakurai drooped. He felt depressed.

Then he had an idea. "What about my instability? Aren't they worried it's contagious?"

They exchanged another glance.

"We're kind of short on jonin sensei," Hatake offered. "So…"

"Damn. This is inacceptable! I- I need to get demoted! But wait! I haven't been promoted! I need to be in the same room as the superior officer who," he halted and looked at Hatake warily. "You're a jonin."

"And you're a chunin."

"I'm- I'm still ANBU!" he tried, but knew a lost cause when he saw one. His sister was restraining him to the bed, after all. His sister. If he'd been a day further into his healing process, he'd have been able to escape without hurting her.

"We're just waiting on the verdict from the Hokage."

"That evil old-"

The Hokage entered the hospital room.

"Mmman," Sakurai finally settled on instead of what he'd actually wanted to say. Then he thought for a moment. "You evil, old, scheming childhood-friend of a motherfucking, evil, dick-fingered traitor to all things good and cute!"

Belatedly, he raised his finger to point at the Hokage.

Hatake tried valiantly to muffle his giggling as his shoulders shook. His sister seemed resigned.

"That's it?" the Hokage asked mildly.

"Hey! Give me a break! I'm terrified over here! I'll have something better in an hour."

"Yes. A jonin vest, for example," the Hogake said. "The decision's final."

That settled it. Sakurai was going to defect. He'd contact Itachi and hope he could be a good background singer in his new boyband. That Kisame person he mentioned seemed like a relaxed kind of person so long as Sakurai didn't lie to him. Shouldn't be too hard. Probably. Maybe.

Mutely, Sakurai went over his options in his head.

After about five minutes, the Hokage sighed. "Stop being catatonic. This isn't nearly as catastrophic as you're making it out to be, Haruno."

Dull green eyes met the Hokage's. All spark of life was lost. He saw the dead eyes of Root agents. But the depressed slump in the prone body of his hospitalised and newly minted jonin told him the story of a very sad person.

Very sad.

"Stop casting sympathy-inducing genjutsu, Haruno," the Hokage said.

Sakurai still looked sad. "Goodbye, relative peace of mind," he whispered.

He wasn't unaware of how his desperation in the face of students seemed disproportionate.

But he knew that if he were true to his convictions about what a teacher should be, what a teacher should encourage in students, he would make them question the entire foundation of what their village was built upon. No matter that it had been in the name of peace for another generation. So far, it had held true, after all and he saw no end to it.

If he taught these students to question, they would pay for it.

In this world, with their lives.

He'd trained young recruits for ANBU. But he had never called himself their teacher. He never would. He hadn't touched upon their beliefs. All he'd done was give them the tools to survive in this particular branch of their profession.

"Please don't give me students," he murmured, entirely serious for once, and baring his very soul before the Hokage. Something he had never done before.

It felt icky.

He endured the gaze of this old man who would never do what was detrimental to the village.

The Hokage sighed before he procured a loose sheet of paper from his robes. He began to read aloud for all to hear. Sakurai sent worried glances at his sister, her teacher and the places where he knew Panda was hiding in the shadows when he hear the first words. "The task of the ninja educator is never to produce freely-thinking students, but to give the current system creative, innovative individuals with strength of conviction in the way of life the that the system supports. Never must they allow for scepticism in the system of belief that has been indoctrinated into young children with the desire to become ninja. More, they must continue to propagate the necessity of murder and deception, as well as, above all else, unquestioning loyalty to the village they serve in. Were the true call of education heeded, we would spend most of our time in meditation and reflection. Reflection of not only ourselves and our individual actions, but of the system as a whole. Ninja would question the meaning behind their existence and the necessity of their profession in its entirety.

"If they were to reach the point of asking after the simple human life and its opportunities for happiness, they might come to conclude that the system itself hinders the path that fosters such fulfilment. The nature of large communities is the need for order. This would not hold true for small settlements that would organise themselves in non-hierarchical structures suited to the individual needs of these small communities. Without the belief that to die for a village, a non-human entity that only functions with the cooperation of the individuals who believe in it, is to die well and necessary death would receive a different status than it does in current society.

"To kill would be to forcefully remove the possibility of furthering the growth of the community, to hurt would be to foster resentment detrimental to the growth of spiritual consciousness and to lie would be to make things more difficult than they need to be."

Sakurai felt uncomfortable with all those eyes on him. Funny that this felt worse than fighting Danzo. "Er…" he said, "So does that mean you agree with me? I shouldn't teach, right? It's… a bit treasonous, right? But I haven't shared it with anyone. So… did you just commit an act of mild treason in reading this out loud?"

That passage had been one of his worse moments. He'd been feeling very anarchistic that night, and it showed. Although it wasn't very structured, and many of the reasoning was missing. He seemed to have also forgotten about the actual country the village was in. There was trade and taxation and a working system.

The Hokage shook his head. "Why did you become a ninja if you felt this way?"

Sakurai shrugged. "I was naïve enough to have the desire to see the world. I wasn't aware of the enormity of the enmity between the villages and countries and thought that with a few ninja tricks, I'd get to see all the interesting places I could find," he laughed a little. "I did get to see. But it was always in the context of a mission. Assassination, infiltration or the plain old game of gathering information. I can't look at structures any more without determining the best possible route of escape. It's… kind of sad."

He didn't mention how there had been a war going on and he'd had little choice in the matter as a child with a functioning chakra network. That they had found that particular set of writings was bad enough. He wasn't sure he'd survive them finding those other ones. He'd been thinking of burning them. But he hadn't been able to in the end. These were his thoughts and he supposed that, if he had to lie to everyone else, he could stay true to himself at least.

Well. He might die for that.

"Nii-san," Sakura said quietly, "You really think that… if we all thought about what we were doing, we wouldn't be ninja?"

"Well. In an ideal world," he admitted. "But the structures of society are far too manipulated towards believing in your enemy's evil-ness and therefore never believing that there wouldn't have to be ninja to protect the people living in the village. Never mind the fact that with a few competent, well-organised people living in the country could be quite pleasant. That is, if you are able to hide well enough from bandits and the like. As it is now, becoming a ninja is both the best and the worst way of protecting yourself. That's why I wanted to be a genin. I'd have been able to refute responsibility for other's lives under my command, perform tasks vital to the daily lives of all citizens and been free enough to open up a sweets shop when the time came to retire."

"That's very naïve," commented Sakura.

He shrugged, never mind the pull on his skin. "I never said I wasn't."

He looked back at the Hokage. The man's face was unreadable.

Well. Sakurai had just killed his childhood friend a few days ago. Orders or not, the Hokage was only human, and he'd certainly feel some lingering resentment towards the person who'd executed them.

"Are you willing to allow the mind-walk?"

Sakurai felt the way the skin on his ribcage stretched painfully. "No."

A Yamanaka could do far more than walk around in there. No, Sakurai was, if nothing else, king of his own mind. No matter that his heart had lost some of itself along the way in places he'd never get them back together.

"Has your attitude towards taking orders changed with the revelation of your philosophical disposition?"

"Not really. I mean, there's a war going on against those Akatsuki fellows. They seem pretty insane. Except for Itachi-chan. Although…" he glanced at his sister, "He's changed a bit if he's so determined to make his little brother kill him."

"You knew Sasuke's older brother?"

"He was in my squad before he became a missing nin."

She remained silent, processing.

"Haruno-kun, Hatake-kun, you may wait outside now," the Hokage said.

Ah. Well. This was it, then.

Sakura left with not even a glance back and Hatake lingered for a moment to look at Sakurai more closely. Perhaps to remember who this weird man was who was about to die.

"What do you know of the massacre that took place at the hands of Uchiha Itachi?"

"Well… I sort of held him captive that night. So it wasn't Itachi personally, even though I gathered that he was ordered to murder his entire clan. I'm not sure if he insisted that Sasuke be spared, or if that was more of a scheme to implicate Itachi further."

The Hokage, still unreadable stared at Sakurai.

"Why did you hold him captive?"

"He was behaving like a robot that day. And I decided that it had to be important if I didn't know about it. So… it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You never reported this. Why?"

"It was kind of a fresh wound. If I was going to add salt to it, I was sure that I'd be part of the bloodshed."

"You will be in charge of the rehabilitation of Root agents under the age of fifteen."

The fuck.

"What."

"You will report for duty as Jonin Haruno in ANBU attire tomorrow at dawn on training ground 49 where you will meet your charges."

Sakurai's mind was blank. What.

Root? What.

Rehabilitation? Root agents? What.

The Sandaime stared at his newest Jonin, waiting.

"Why would you… what am I… this is going to end in bloodshed!"

Seeing as his orders had been received, the Sandaime smiled. "You will not be issued a new mask."

Sakurai felt his cheeks heat. His sixth… well, alright. He didn't want to have that conversation again anyway. But…

Root.

What the fuck? What the fuck was he supposed to do with those robots?

Treat them as humans? People?

Were they? _Did_ they have any emotions left? Was there any capacity for it?

"Congratulations," the Hokage said, and vanished.

Not so different from Root agents, after all. They had interests, surely. Bloody ones, probably.

Perhaps he could begin with teaching them what hobbies were.


	3. Adjustment Period

[So, Biwako's alive, I've decided.]

* * *

ANBU wasn't a kind place.

Sakurai was well aware of that fact. His squadmates were sceptical that he would prevail. That he would be more than a burden. And so he, after completing the trials under Fox Taichou, was tested once more.

These tests were crueller than the others.

He found that, had he not steeled his resolve, had he not decided that there would be nothing that kept him from retuning to a peaceful life, he would not have made it past the first hour. He did not believe that those who failed would not face any consequences. He'd not heard of any that failed and only had to live with humiliation. In fact, he'd never heard of ANBU failures at all, back then.

He was not naïve enough to believe that it was the simple fact of secrecy that kept those failures safe. There was no such thing as safety in a ninja village. He kept his anger in check for that, that he had been picked at all if it was not clear that he would succeed. It would not matter to them, and no matter how much it mattered to him, it would not change his situation. He would remember, though.

As it was, he had weighed his decision carefully. He had arrived at the conclusion that he would not, could not live peacefully unless his village was at peace. He was drafted into ANBU because there he had the best chances of promoting the peace he so desired. He would not fail.

And so, Zeta Squad found themselves a determined little Peacock to trail after them. He wasn't as fast as his elder teammates. He was inexperienced.

He was never one to take things lying down.

It seemed, the whole of Root never did either. He made his escape from the confused and volatile agents, just barely. He was still a Captain, damn it, recovering or not! That would have been embarrassing. And painful.

Shuddering, he recalled that one little girl with the morning star. Impressive, that. Scary, but impressive. He liked them a bit. It was good to stand up to superior officers who were there to mess with you.

The thing was, though, he was there to mess with them under orders. So… he couldn't really run away. He sighed from where he watched them search for him.

Well, alright, kids. Game on.

* * *

As he inspected the prone forms of his newest charges, Sakurai thought that the Hokage really knew how to let his displeasure be known. Evidently he would have to put some work in to regain his previous status of 'trusted'. Whatever measure of trust he'd had was better than having to constantly watch his back when he was busy teaching these… children what it meant to be human.

He would have to think of them as children in order to succeed.

Physically, that was what they were, what they should be in his opinion.

"Alright, kids," he said, enjoying their baleful glares, "My name's Haruno Sakurai and I'll be your supervisor for the near future. Let's get along!"

* * *

"You're mean!"

Sakurai was startled to hear it from his own summons. He paid them attention, fulfilled their contract, summoned them for social rather than professional reasons and had to take this abuse! The entitlement, he thought, has gone too far! The younger generation no longer desires to work, prefers to do fun things and demands more and more compensation for nothing! Sakurai swore this little shit could begin spending its time alone, without ever being summoned again if it persisted to demean him in this way!

"I," he said, chest puffing up to stare the peacock in the large eye, "Am not. Mean!"

"Are too!"

In the background, there could be heard whispers of disbelief. "That's the newest jonin, right?" – "Right." – "No, really? I mean…"

"Am not!" Sakurai was indignant. "How dare you! With every fibre of my being I have cared for you and fed and protected you, I am not mean! I gave you half of my breakfast!"

"You didn't get me my own!"

"Like you would eat it! You always complain when I do! I've had it, I'm not sharing with you any more!"

"Meanie!"

With a puff of smoke, Sakurai un-summoned his summon. "Entitled little brat! Leech," he continued to mutter insults under his breath. "Soul-sucking, demon-slaying, overly excitable cretin! He can go enjoy the sunset on his own! I have other friends. Who are… all outside the village, on missions. And I'm stuck here," he complained as he trod over to the nearest ninja bar. "Unfit for duty, they say. No longer in ANBU, they say. The whole world knows who you are now, they say. Useless undercover now, they say. Can't sit still for ten minutes, they say! Ha! They don't know the half of it!"

The bartender, well-acquainted with Sakurai's mumbling and of the opinion that indulgence would worsen the occurrence, slid over Sakurai's usual silently.

"And Sakura-chan isn't back yet. Damn that Hatake! Whose idea was it to put her on his team? Curse them! Curse the Hoka-"

"I advise you not to finish that, Sakurai-kun," a deep voice rumbled behind him.

Sakurai slowly turned to regard the newcomer. It was the Hokage. "-Guh!" he forced out, mouth not quite managing to get the last part of the noise right. His tongue was too afraid.

Sandaime narrowed his eyes at the young man. He sat beside him.

"So. How is life as a jonin?"

"Horrible! People keep talking behind my back! I get called mean! Your son's offspring tried to put a note with 'kick-me' on it on my back! And then people tried to anyway when it didn't work!"

"I see."

"You do," hope began to shine in Sakurai's eyes. "Then you'll demote me to Genin again! It's an absolute dishonour. Thank you! So much!" He took off his jonin vest, pressed it into the Hokage's lap and vanished.

The bartender stared for a moment and turned to the slightly stunned leader of his village. "Will you be picking up his tab?"

"I get no respect around here, do I?" The honourable man lamented.

The bartender shrugged. "You made your bed."

The Hokage laughed. "There's colourful feathers all over it. They'll tickle if I lie in it."

"Why didn't you stuff them in a pillow?"

"Every time I try, they struggle and scatter."

"That's the nature of feathers. But if they can beat you at your own game, well, I'd say they'd earned the right to tickle you."

The Hokage flared his chakra and hear the resigned sigh of the man he came to speak to. "So. The rehabilitation project I put you in charge of is working?"

Sakurai, who had been posing behind the counter as the barman poured himself a glass and knocked it back in a smooth, practised motion. "A work in progress. One could say that one of the cogs has begun to struggle against the rusted whole of the mechanism."

He repeated his earlier action.

"Ah."

"So," Sakurai said, pausing to slide a drink over to the newly arrived chunin who looked like he could use it, "How has _your_ day been?"

The Hokage chuckled. "Not even my son asks me that any more."

Sakurai poured the Hokage some sake. "Have people not been following orders?"

"How did you know?"

He smiled wryly. It was good, he thought, that he ended up in Konoha. It could be worse. Sure, he earned his living by carrying out missions that often resulted in someone's death, but it wasn't like it was worse than being a broker. Or a noble. Or anyone of high standing.

He didn't pity the Hokage.

But he topped up his cup.

* * *

As he told the Hokage, it was a work in progress.

He had them all tied up in some way, so well, in fact, that he was thinking about bringing someone a present. But, well, it would have to be someone very forgiving. He didn't know many people with that trait, and those who had it he didn't want to surprise with a tied-up, angry, bloodthirsty Root operative on their doorstep.

It would be an odd gift to his step-father, in any case. Sakurai's mother would be upset as well. But that reminded him, it was their wedding anniversary soon. He wondered what he should give them.

"Now, children," he said, "I will teach you basic human expression."

.

Several people had asked Sakurai if he thought torturing children was funny.

He had replied that he thought torturing in general was a productive habit for a ninja, and why stop at children?

This had made them go away. It had also made the Hokage come to talk to him in his favourite tea room. It was freaking out the civilians.

"Haruno-kun," the grandfatherly man said, "Why am I getting complaints about you threatening to torture people who confronted you about your rehabilitation methods?"

Sakurai, in a petulant mood, replied, "Because they fail to read between the lines. Also, they're stupid."

The Hokage sighed. "Are you still upset about your promotion?"

"How did you guess?"

"I read between the lines." Oh dear. That tone was so bone-dry, Sakurai thought of getting the man some moisturiser before remembering who this was. He might anyway.

"Ah. That just proves that you're the Hokage for a reason."

"And what reason would that be?"

"You," Sakurai declared, "Are a big, fat meanie. There, I said it."

"I am getting a bit upset at your constant disregard for my personal feelings." Yes. Moisture was in order.

"It would be a very odd world where I was able to hurt your feelings," Sakurai stated. "You just want me to get the job done without complaints from your sensitive soldiers. Well, if they continue to bother me, they will have to grow a thicker skin. I'm surprised they've gotten away without it so far."

His response had ended on a rather solemn note, he thought. Was that the luxury of those who had lived outside of ANBU their entire lives, to care about their own feelings to this extent? Should he have closed his eyes to the fact that if he had failed in ANBU so many years ago, someone else would have had to step up, and that it would not be someone more qualified?

"ANBU has made you very jaded, Haruno-kun," the Hokage smiled oddly at him over his cup of tea, "Of course I care about your opinion of me."

"It's the writings, isn't it? You've sent this clone here to find out where I got my ideas from. All you've managed to achieve is to make me more paranoid about my standing in the village."

The Hokage's shadow clone lost his grandfatherly vibe. "Are you accusing me of mistrusting you?"

"I'm accusing you," Sakurai said succinctly, "Of being the Hokage for a reason."

There was silence before the man began to chuckle. "You've made me curious, Haruno-san. It doesn't happen often."

Morosely, he thought back on that time Orochimaru had said that to him when Sakurai had been Captaining the squad to detain the man after his experimentation on children had been discovered. Perhaps those two men had more in common with each other than Sakurai'd thought.

"If my childhood dream wasn't already ruined, it'd be now," Sakurai muttered darkly ignoring the slightly dubious look he received from the other man. He was very good at ignoring things he didn't want to acknowledge. The change in honorific was one of them.

"Was it really to become a genin, retire to the countryside and sell sweets?"

Sakurai sighed into his tea, "I had it all planned out. There should be a picture of what I wanted the shop to look like somewhere in those papers that I still haven't gotten back from T&I."

"Ah," the Hokage's clone said. "That was what the torture was about."

Sakurai was the one to eye him dubiously this time. "Well…" he considered for a moment, "Sure, let's go with that."

He hadn't wanted his reputation to be one of being approachable. God, no. People would ask him favours, and ways to deal with his few, but unanimously fucked-up friends. No, the whisperings of his insanity were just fine. Besides, Sakura was meant to return by the end of the week.

"So how is the rehabilitation going?"

Right. Debriefing in a tea room. Sure. Whatever. They'd started in a bar, so it was going better, he supposed.

"They know the meaning of the word 'stupid' now," he reported, feeling rather proud. "Also, they think numbers are their names. So, I've decided to call them stupid names to get them to choose identifiers for themselves. They may or may not believe me that Danzo is dead now, and one is definitely only biding their time."

"Hmm," the Hokage's clone said. "Understandable. How are you planning to gain their trust?"

"I don't expect I ever will," Sakurai swirled the tea in his cup in a show of bad manners, "They will detect any attempts at gaining their trust from a mile away. Especially when I will be teaching them to watch out for that sort of stuff. We ninja aren't nice people, after all, and they are so easily manipulated when you know how to."

"And are you?"

"Sure. I'm rubbing their faces in it. Hopefully in a way that allows them to see the futility of walling themselves off against emotions, since they have them, but unfortunately only very few of them."

"Hmm."

"Mmh," Sakurai agreed, and finished his tea. Then he stood. "Am I cooking for two tonight, or are you going to dispel?"

The Hokage looked vaguely surprised and amused at the same time.

"Are you inviting me to dinner, Haruno-san?"

"Sure. Why not? Then you'll be less curious and I don't have to eat on my own."

"I will come as myself," the man replied. Ah. Okay, he should have expected to see the table turned on him in this way. The Hokage didn't like getting outdone, after all. Who was Sakurai to even attempt it?

"Eight?"

"That'll be fine."

"Bring your wife if she wants to come. And your son's progeny."

"What about Asuma?"

"He's got a date."

"How do you know?"

"I hear things."

"You hear things."

"With my ears."

"I see," Sakurai stifled a laugh at the clone's reply.

"With your mind," he said, and nodded. "So, for four people… hmm. Allergies or severe dislikes?"

"None. However, my wife does not favour pork."

"Alright," Sakurai said, thinking briefly of making pork ramen, but Naruto would never forgive him. "See you later."

* * *

Right. Sakurai could admit it.

Sakura was right. He was insane.

He sighed, staring at the selection of vegetables. "Why so downtrodden, Haruno-san?" the merchant of his favoured stand asked, looking almost gleeful at his misery.

"I'm a jonin now," he said, tone a mixture of despair and resignation.

"I heard," the man continued to almost smirk.

Sakurai inspected the zucchini he intended for the ratatouille part of the dinner.

"The whole village heard," the merchant continued on, "And everyone is talking about your ingratitude."

Sakurai sighed and put the zucchini in his basket before moving on to the aubergines. "I have more duties now," he complained, "And people are being mean."

"That's too bad."

"Yes. I am inconsolable."

"Sure you are."

Sakurai sighed, even more defeated. "Here," he said paying for his vegetables. "This is my last genin money."

"You were a chunin before you were a genin."

"Sure. Call it whatever money you want."

"Mine."

Sakurai left with a laugh to get the meat he wanted.

* * *

He'd set his clones to cooking and clearing up the flat to look sort of tidy, set the table that his father had been responsible for buying when the man had still lived with Sakurai and left there.

He himself was busy getting the blood out from under his nails after his shower and staring at his half-empty bookshelf because the rest of it was still in T&I. Those bastards just liked his literature too much to hurry up. He sat on the couch and sighed.

There was a knock on the door. Ah. His guests.

He dispelled the clone still pushing a picture frame into the just right angle of not-quite-straight-and-it-is-on-purpose-to-annoy-anyone-with-a-disorder and the ones that were done in the kitchen before opening the door to the Sarutobi Clan heads and heir. "Evening," he greeted, taking in the formal attire. "Sorry. I thought I was clear on how I meant it to be a casual thing?"

The Hokage smiled and his wife answered, handing him a gift, "Good evening. You were. I insisted. After all, it is not often that I get to go out to dinner like this and I intend to make the most of the occasion."

Sakurai gave her a crooked smile as he let them inside. "Sure. I hope you can excuse that you're the most elegant presence in attendance."

She smiled at him, "Do not concern yourself. So long as there is interesting conversation and edible sustenance, I do not find that there should be anything to excuse."

He laughed, "I'll do my best, Sarutobi-san. Dinner will be ready in a moment. What are you having?"

He took their outer layers of clothing and put them neatly on the clothes hangers he left for them, not including the scarf of Konohamaru who seemed very subdued. Perhaps he thought he was in trouble for the other day. Sakurai didn't carry grudges like that for children. Once he reached a rank that Sakurai was comfortable thinking of as 'can take care of themselves', it was another matter.

They sat at the table, leaving one of the head ends for Sakurai and the other for the Hokage.

"What do you suggest?"

"Red wine goes well with what I've prepared. I could offer you fresh mint and elder lemonade for starters, though,"

"What's that? That's a weird flavour!" the small academy student said.

Sakurai scratched his head. "It is?"

"Certainly unusual," the Hokage agreed with his grandson, "But I would like to try some."

Sarutobi-san nodded to show her agreement, and seeing this, Konohamaru glared at Sakurai. His last clone brought out the drinks, wearing the flower apron his mother had given him. He had to say it contrasted well with his otherwise scarred, calloused appearance. He enjoyed the looks on their faces for a moment, before opening the wine cabinet and pulling out one of his more expensive bottles of red to uncork and let breathe.

He set the bottle down to the side, and enjoyed the way the boy grudgingly seemed to admit to himself that the lemonade was tasty. The grandparents said nothing as they smiled at each other.

"How did you come by the idea to make such a combination, Haruno-san?" Sarutobi-san asked curiously.

Sakurai shrugged after taking in the short hand sign of his clone that dinner would take another twenty minutes. "The traditional way seemed boring, so I tried new things," he said, smiling slightly in response to the Hokage's expression of non-surprise. That, and he'd been feeling nostalgic for another lifetime.

"Well," his wife replied, "It is certainly enjoyable."

"Good to hear," he said, taking the carafe from his clone to refill Konohamaru's glass before sitting down himself.

"I understand that you are responsible for rehabilitating the special ANBU now that you are no longer a Captain," Sarutobi-san said, clearly interested, and thankfully blunt enough not to dance around the subject.

"Yes, they're rather in need of it," Sakurai thought for a moment, mindful of the young audience, "I hope they find themselves some names soon."

"They don't have any names?" Konohamaru asked, shocked.

"No," the Hokage said gently, "And I suspect they don't know the importance of one."

"How?"

The Hokage shifted his eyes to Sakurai for him to answer, and Konohamaru followed his gaze. "They didn't live like you did. They didn't have anyone to take care of them like we would have wanted them to be. Instead of names, they were given numbers. I hope to make them realise that a number does not account," he forced himself not to make the pun obvious, "For individual personalities, for desires, for humanity, and that all three are desirable."

He sighed at Konohamaru's confused look, reminded of Naruto.

"I want them to want something," he tried again, "Because so far they've been taught that they do not have wishes or desires apart from what their organisation told them to."

"Oh," the boy murmured, looking saddened.

"Will they manage?" the lady at the table asked bluntly, unconcerned with shielding her grandson from the ugly truth.

Sakurai shrugged. "I will give them every room, any opportunity to do so."

"That is all that can be asked of you," she said, nodding with approval.

He smiled crookedly at her. He did not say that he had been asked more than could be asked ever since he became a ninja. She would know. She'd been a jonin in her time. Still was. Ninja never really retired once they reached a certain rank.

His clone appeared with the starters and Sakurai got up to give out the wine.

"Can I try?" Konohamaru asked, in a display of what Sakurai thought uncharacteristic of the boy. Naruto would have demanded. Then again, they were similar in many ways, and dissimilar in others. It wouldn't do to dismiss the boy because Sakurai already knew someone who was like him in certain aspects of behaviour.

Sakurai glanced at the boy's grandmother. With a wry twist of her lips, she nodded.

Sakurai gave him a splash. "See if you like it. If you do, and have permission, you can have more during the main course."

He sat again.

"You said this would be a casual dinner," the Hokage said with amusement, taking up his glass, "But I see that you have prepared a feast."

Sakurai shrugged once more, feeling the loose material of his t-shirt shift on his collar bones, "Can't have you leaving here anything other than satisfied."

He raised his own glass. Then he looked at Konohamaru, "Do you want to do the toast?"

The boy nodded, "To great names!"

"Aye," Sakurai said, "to great names."

"Campai," the Sarutobis said.

They all sipped their red wine, and Sakurai watched with amusement as Konohamaru forced himself to swallow. "Urgh."

Sakurai his smile with his glass and let the liquid roll over his tongue. Yes. It was a good one from the southern-most region of the Land of Fire. He'd chosen well for tonight.

They ate their starters with various expressions of 'yummy'. Sakurai was quite pleased. He'd always enjoyed it when others enjoyed his cooking.

"I must say, Haruno-san," mentioned the Hokage, "That I hadn't expected you to be such a proficient cook."

Sakurai nodded, "Well, it isn't something many ninja aspire to. But I enjoy it greatly, especially if it is shared."

"Odd," the man replied, "You had given me the impression that you did not want others to think of you as sociable."

"I can hardly cook for the entire village. We have Ichiraku's for that," he said, allowing the man to draw his own conclusions.

"Yeah! Boss says Ichiraku's is the place of the gods!" Konohamaru exclaimed, having already finished his starter.

Sakurai laughed softly at the reminder. He'd been there with Naruto quite a few times. The first time he'd paid for the ramen as Agent Peacock had been funny, and it had continued to be funny until Teuchi and his daughter got used to it. "Yes, Naruto does enjoy it very much," he nodded, before getting up to clear the plates away, using chakra strings as usual, startling the Sarutobis as the plates silently rose, never once tilting before stacking neatly as he walked to the kitchen.

He ignored their raised eyebrows and brought out the fresh plates while his clone followed with the beef roast before disappearing again to get out the ratatouille. His clones had arranged potatoes around the meat to soak up the juice and a mouth-watering smell rose to Sakurai's nostrils. He took pity on the ANBU that were guarding the Hokage from the corner and served the food for his invited guests, as well as two plates that he left beside the open bottle of wine to the side with more cutlery.

"Why're you using civilian knives?"

Ah. He hadn't been asked that before. He supposed that most shinobi simply used kunai.

"Well. I come from a civilian family," he explained, "And I do like to remind myself that this is home."

"What do you mean?"

"On missions, it is more practical to use kunai for cooking. But while it might do the job, I like to forsake practicality for innocuous comforts. I enjoy cooking for its own sake and it has nothing to do with my profession as a ninja. It is not all I am. And I relish the fact," he explained, aware of the Hokage more than he'd been the entire evening so far.

The man looked to have understood something. Perhaps this was his curiosity sated, then.

"Let's eat," Sakurai suggested, and they did.

"What is this seasoning? I've never had this kind before," Sarutobi-san commented on the ratatouille.

"I will give you the recipe if you like," Sakurai said, feeling oddly nostalgic for offering to share recipes like his mother used to do with her friends. She probably still did. He just hadn't attended their dinners in a long time.

"Please do," the lady said.

The Hokage smiled.

"So how is life?" Sakurai asked, "Can't be too horrible, even now."

Sarutobi-san laughed softly, "It is the regular nightmare, Haruno-san, although I do find myself lucky to have my own name tonight."

He smiled, allowing them to see the sadness of it, "Yes, it does rather come down to luck, doesn't it?"

"How do you mean?" the lady asked.

"Our opportunities and freedom are greatly determined by our station at birth," he said, taking another sip of his wine before continuing, "I see great potential in all of the special agents I've been assigned to, and I dislike that their circumstances led them to the exploitation they have suffered without even realising it."

"You think it could have been prevented?" the Hokage's voice seemed slightly tense, much like it had been before he'd made Sakurai a jonin.

He met those intelligent eyes with slight trepidation. "That is a complicated question. 'What if', he said slowly," and he continued to speak carefully, stressing 'if' especially, "If the circumstances had been prevented from occurring, what else would have changed in accordance? If the cause for their current situation had been removed, what is to say that there would not have been other, perhaps even more devastating consequences of another cause that gained more power as a result of the removal of the original one? It is a moot point," when no one seemed keen on replying, he continued, "Much like saying that we must be grateful to live as we do today, because it is better than what came before. We cannot know how it truly was, and so to make such claims is to lie, even while we are unaware of it."

He finished his wine.

A small smile was playing around the Hokage's mouth as he did the same. Sarutobi-san looked thoughtful while Konohamaru seemed not to have understood a word of that.

"Do you look to the future, then?" the Hokage asked, even more intently than his previous question.

Sakurai frowned, "I can't not. But I try not to. It takes something from the present to look for the future in everything I do. No, I think it's important to enjoy the moment as it comes, and I look to the future when things aren't pleasant in the present because that is where things will change."

"A very pragmatic view," Sarutobi-san commented.

"I suppose so," he said, "Sometimes I can't help it."

"I thought it was good to be pragmatic as a ninja," Konohmaru piped up, adorably confused for the petulant child he seemed to be until he was reminded of the concerns of others.

Sakurai tilted his head silently, looking at the Hokage, and this time Konohamaru followed Sakurai's gaze to his grandfather for an answer.

The man smiled, amused and indulgent, "It is. But when there is time, you would do well to remember that it is not always the most fun way to live."

At that, Sakurai smiled. When there is time, eh? What a pragmatic world-view for the Hokage. He noted Sarutobi-san's slight surprise at the concession as well. So, there seemed to have never been much time for the man not to be pragmatic and she had never considered that he might be less so if there had been fewer responsibilities on his shoulders. That, if there had not been a need, a demand for him, he would be different.

Too bad that they lived in a ninja village, where there was always a need for competence.

"Would anyone like any seconds?" he asked both the table, and the empty plates he'd left for the ANBU. There was an anticipatory shudder in the corners they were hiding in, and Sakurai smiled as he refilled their plates.

"Me, too, please," Konohamaru said, holding his plate up to make it easier for Sakurai to put more food on it.

"I also wouldn't mind some more," the Hokage said, mimicking his grandson.

At Sakurai's enquiring look, the lady shook her head in an exasperated manner before following suit.

He refilled the glasses for himself and the Hokage, since the lady had been more moderate in enjoying it.

"But it's fun being a ninja," Konohamaru stated after he'd finished half of his plate.

Sakurai said nothing to contradict this, and neither did the Hokage. Sarutobi-san however seemed to scrutinise her grandson closely, judging whether he was ready for some truth about the ninja business. "Konohamaru-kun," she said eventually, "As all things, being a ninja has both a fun and a not-so-fun side. You will see more of the latter as you grow older."

Konohamaru frowned at his plate.

"Maa," Sakurai said, "There's still some time to enjoy life without thinking about the future."

He considered himself at that age. He'd been in ANBU recruitment around that time. Nothing but thinking about the future, then. It was nice to see someone have more time for the present.

"Not too much, though," the Hokage muttered, "Or you'll end up like Hatake-kun."

Sakurai couldn't help the snort. As far as he knew, Hatake had had even less of a childhood than Sakurai, and he only took his time to enjoy the present now because he was still catching up with life while he dawdled in nostalgia and regret.

He ignored the curious eyes of the Hokage and his family as he wryly smiled at his wine. If it weren't so sad, Hatake's life would be a perfect example of life's ironic little mockeries. What was the saying? Pride comes before the fall.

Sakurai wondered what he would have broken if he'd fallen from that height.

More than his heart. More than his mind.

He suspected Hatake hid more damage behind the obvious cracks than anyone was allowed to glimpse.

"Haruno-san," Sarutobi-san began softly, "Do you know Hatake-kun?"

He raised his eyes to see her stern visage slightly softening. Ah, he'd been too pensive. "Some things are easier to see from farther away," he replied, "Where the mirror is distorted when it is too close."

The Hokage seemed to hide a frown behind his glass, and Sarutobi-san considered his words.

"What mirror?"

"In order to see yourself, sometimes you need to look at others or other things first," Sakurai explained the metaphor. "It's a mirror like you know it, only for the inside, instead of the outside."

"Oh."

At the lull in conversation, Sakurai's clone reappeared to take away the dishes again, only to return with desert. Sakurai loved crème brulée. More than his father some days.

Konohamaru was vocal about his appreciation of the desert, and in a more subdued manner, so were the Hokage and Sarutobi-san.

"I heard you were displeased with your promotion?" Sarutobi-san ventured once she had appreciated the taste.

Sakurai scrutinised her. Well, she asked, and her grandson appeared to be taking the conversation well so far. Better than Naruto would have. A good thing, he supposed. It meant he had an active mind that would be suited to detecting the nuances that were hidden in the room and between the people soon enough with the right guidance. It was a good skill to have in any profession.

"Yes," he answered finally, aware of the eyes on him, "I am quite aware of my fear of responsibility for others. Should it ever come to it, and I would have command over other ninja, I would be responsible for their lives. I do not enjoy it. And so I do not enjoy promotion."

"But you held the position of ANBU Captain," the Hokage ignored the small gasp his grandson released.

"At the time, I was the best person to take up the temporary command. And it was never rescinded. ANBU…" he sighed, "ANBU is different. It is separate from politics and anything that requires more than getting the mission over with as smoothly as possible. And…" he glanced at the youngest person in the room, "No one would ever think to disobey, since the Captain is the most competent and experienced person on the squad. To disobey would mean not only to forsake the mission, but also to endanger the lives of everyone involved. There is more room for disobedience or reinterpretation of orders outside of ANBU. I wonder what I would do, given enough room."

The Hokage chuckled. "Apparently, you write philosophy, and poetry, as well as inebriated social critique. You cook and take great care to separate all these actions from your profession."

The man brought out a storage scroll from his formal yukata. "T&I is done with your brilliant insanity, as they called it. Yamanaka-san was reluctant to allow these writings go without making copies. He seemed to enjoy your poetry."

Sakurai raised his brows, but took the scroll and laid it in the bookshelf to organise later. "Well. Thank you for returning them to me."

The Hokage inclined his head. Sarutobi-san seemed intrigued. "Philosophy? What kind?"

She seemed genuinely interested. But Sakurai knew ninja. Was she… attempting to endear herself to him? He'd been polite all evening, saying less than he would if he weren't making an effort into keeping tensions low and the dinner pleasant. And she had been an excellent conversationalist so far.

"Nothing pragmatic, certainly," he said. "One could call it a bit of nature philosophy. Aesthetics and their importance for a human mind. Something about balance, too."

"Aesthetics?" Konohamaru repeated.

"The way we perceive the world can be harsh sometimes," Sakurai said, "And I remind myself that there is beauty here by finding it and putting it to paper as best I can. There is something beautiful about the colour of your eyes, for instance. It brings out a special kind of intent that I admire."

Konohamaru's face went scarlet. It contrasted well with his eyes as he was unable to hide the secret pleasure he felt.

"Now, Haruno-san," the Hokage said with a twinkle in his eyes, "Aren't you a bit old for my grandson?"

Sakurai smiled, "You are certainly right. But it is the nature of beauty that it does not discriminate. Would you rather I commented on what I find beautiful about yourself?"

The Hokage, slightly surprised, smiled. "Oho, with my dear wife right here?"

Sarutobi-san laughed lowly, "Don't be coy now, Hiruzen. You haven't been called beautiful in a long time. Enjoy it."

Sakurai held her eyes for a few moments when she turned to him expectantly. "I find beauty in the tilt of your head, Sarutobi-san."

She did not colour. Instead, she tilted her head. Sakurai could not help the smile this time, and he knew that they saw that it was more genuine than his others.

"Your smile," she returned, "Makes light dance across your eyes, Haruno-san."

He continued to smile in acceptance of the compliment, even as it turned slightly melancholy. He could no longer trust the words people uttered before him. He did, however, think she was not the type of ninja to say that kind of thing often.

"Right before my eyes, Biwako," the Hokage admonished teasingly.

Sakurai left them to their banter as he cleared the last dishes and poured the last of the wine.

"So Yamanaka-san enjoys poetry," Sakurai mused, more to himself than his guests, but as an offer to change the subject.

The Hokage nodded. "He writes some himself when he finds the time. I remember when he was practising I found some on the back of a report he handed in when he was a genin."

Sakurai found his smile returning. "What was it about, if I might be so curious?"

"He expressed his admiration for his teammate in… vivid detail."

Sarutobi-san sent her husband a suspicious glance. "The kind of detail that Jiraya-kun would take special notice of?"

"Ah, no," he replied, "It was rather more innocent than that."

Inoichi Yamanaka, innocent. Right. Sakurai had heard some interesting stories about that man before he'd been married and had a child. No one dared speak of it these days, but Sakurai was certain he'd been the inspiration for one of the characters of Jiraya's literary work. It wasn't particularly subtle, either. If anything, no one had noticed because it was so glaringly obvious.

"How old was he?"

"Oh, he must have been thirteen."

Well. Let's give the tween the benefit of the doubt, shall we?

During the lull in conversation, Konohamaru took the opportunity to ask, "What's that on the wall?"

He was asking about the guitar. Well. He considered his guests. Why not? He was no Jimmy Hendrix, but he knew his way around this acoustic. He'd made it himself, after all.

He invited them to sit on his sofa while he took it off the wall.

He brought over a chair and tuned it under their watchful gazes. Considering his audience, he settled for something that required finesse, but was light enough not to turn angry or sorrowful.

He watched them as he played, Konohamaru interested and full of awe, Sarutobi-san watchful and intrigued, and the Hokage was… looking as though he understood a great deal more than Sakurai thought was possible, even though he'd been deliberately honest and open.

It was easy to get lost in the melody, to smile at the memory of composing this for Sakura when she was little, to remember the light dancing across her head of hair the way she had sat and listened so attentively that he was able to forget the blood he'd cleaned out from under his fingernails hours earlier. He breathed in the scent of a well-cooked and enjoyed meal, returned to the present.

It was a revelation, he knew. The purpose of this evening was to make the Hokage understand that Sakurai's home was here, and that he had many things he desired to protect. That he had done a great deal of things to protect it.

There was applause when he finished, curious questions from Konohamaru and more polite chit-chat about music.

At the door, Sarutobi-san said, "There are two recipes here."

Sakurai nodded and glanced at her husband to explain. The Hokage had seemed to enjoy dessert. Her smile was kind. "Sleep well," she said as a farewell.

"Thank you," he smiled at her again, genuinely, "You, too."

"Thank you for dinner, Haruno-san," the Hokage said, "I enjoyed it very much."

"Good," Sakurai nodded, "Thanks for coming," then he looked at Konohamaru, "I wish you the best of luck as a ninja. Don't hesitate to seize opportunities."

The young genin nodded. "Yes. Good night, Haruno-san."

They left.

Fucking hell. Was he glad this was over. He didn't know he had to put so much effort into being honest with people he didn't know well.

Then there was always tomorrow.


	4. Hobbies

The problem was, Sakurai mused as he considered his young charges, that everyone thought you needed some sort of justification for disliking life in general.

Like it was so easy to enjoy it in the first place.

What naivety, what blindness! He wished he had both traits.

Hatake was at his side. Sakurai turned to look at the man. He said nothing as they scrutinised each other, and he was slightly surprised by how well he understood the look in his eyes.

Good morning, he thought, I won't tell anyone if you leave to do other things, so long as you tell no one that I did the same. He sighed at the man instead. Didn't he have his own genin to torment?

No, answered the silence. And I have orders.

Orders. Orders, orders, orders. Sakurai still hadn't dismissed the idea of becoming a missing nin.

He'd been a hunter. He'd been ANBU. He'd fought in a war. He was good enough to get away. Trouble was, that this village held everything he held dear.

He smiled a sad smile, the Root children wouldn't know it was sad, and the Hatake would only know he was sad and little else, and produced a stack of cards. It was one of those new thoughtful games the civilians played, where the group would answer personal questions. He'd modified it a bit to suit his needs.

"Come children, sit in a circle and make yourselves comfortable," they did. Hatake sat down with them. Alright. Then he was going to be a child as well today. That was okay. Sakurai liked being a child sometimes, too.

Hatake's idea of comfortable seemed to be to sit with his back leaning on Sakurai's shoulder, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. This was odd. But not unusual for a child. Sakurai allowed the physical contact and got used to the tips of hair brushing against the skin of his neck with every one of his movements.

He ignored the implications screaming at him because he didn't want to think about them.

He set the cards down on a stack in the middle of their circle.

"Right. I'd like you all to pick a card, read what's on it silently, think about your answer and tell me your name when you're ready," he said. This was far too advanced for them. This had to do with will and desire, after all. They would not have those outside of a Danzo-free context. Which was going to be their entire lives from then on. He only hoped that through these unsubtle suggestions, they would discover them in time. "I'll go first to give you an example."

He drew a card and was surprised by what it said on it. 'Think about the most successful event of the past month and who you shared it with.' If he weren't so melancholy today, he would humorously question 'Successful for whom?' and amuse himself with the possibilities.

Instead, he ignored the way the tips of hair on his neck shifted as he was motionless. He'd had Sakura over for dinner with his father and Naruto. It was a success because they had all enjoyed themselves.

"My name is Haruno Sakurai, formerly Captain Peacock. I look forward to spending time with you," he said, and meant it. This gaggle of unfortunate souls would have the chance to know what it felt like to have such successful moments as well.

The featherlight touch of chakra receded from the point of contact Hatake shared with him.

What a nosy child he was being today.

But alright. Sakurai did always indulge in curiosities. He would not hold back either.

The eldest of the children picked up a card next. He watched their face carefully. It was a blank mask, but the confusion was evident.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Sai's voice is as monotone as ever as he answers. "I am palming your face."

"Why."

"Taichou taught me how to facepalm. He said it was a common reaction to unexpectedly stupid, but non-lethal situations."

"Ah. Did he explicitly state to do it on others?"

"He explained the concept and used me as an example."

"Did he specify for how long?"

"No."

"Then please remove your hand now."

Sai removes his palm.

"Has he taught you anything else?"

"To judge character."

"… How?"

"By observing their reactions to the facepalm."

* * *

Sakurai survived the ninja life mostly through luck and a measure of skill. He was also well-versed in the art of taking enjoyment in life wherever he could find it. Where normally, he would assign seemingly pointless tasks to incite annoyance and a short temper, with Root they wouldn't care.

Yet. He was determined to make that a yet.

He would make them as emotional as possible. And so, he'd decided to give them a taste of what Sakurai thought brought some measure of meaning to life. He taught them how to make people laugh.

Well. Smile. If the stretching of lips in a cringe counted.

Sakurai was having fun! They were tormenting the ninja forces and no one dared to call him out on it because the children were just so pathetic…

He… felt kind of defeated. But. But! He'd gotten Pip – short for puny inverted pipsqueak because the boy was enormous for a twelve-year-old and had a cute voice – interested in music when Sakurai had brought his guitar along to make more of a spectacle of them as they moved around the village, telling horrible jokes. Sakurai had shown Pip how the guitar worked, explained how he built it and said nothing else until Pip's eyes began to wander towards the treeline searching for the right type of wood.

Sakurai had smiled and watched as Pip snapped his eyes forward as if caught, back to his usual stoicism. Sakurai had patted his head, "Go on. Make your own."

Pip had continued to stare at him, disbelieving.

"Well," Sakurai's crossed his arms, "I didn't explain it to you couldn't use the knowledge. Or… do you perhaps need to hear it again? Have you forgotten already? Or… are you not interested after all?"

Pip's eyes had widened comically in his otherwise blank face as his competence was questioned.

Sakurai had sighed. "Ah… well, you should've said I was bothering you, I-"

"No," Pip had whispered, immediately cowering for interrupting a superior officer.

"No what?"

When there'd seemed to be no retribution from Sakurai, he's stood straight again, but not losing a wary edge. "Agent 451 remembers."

So Pip had gone and made his own guitar. Sakurai played a new song for him from time to time and Pip learned from hearing it a few times.

* * *

Natsumi was a really creepy child. Sakurai got the heebie-jeebies every time he met her crystal clear, blue eyes. She liked to stare at him.

Sakurai was not appreciative. He decided that she needed to occupy her eyes with something else and took her to the bookstore for some general fiction or fantasy. She was not appreciative.

Endo was, though, so he considered it a measure of success. Two down, three to go. He didn't count Sai. Sai had a hobby already and was doing fine with applying Sakurai's lessons on proper conduct. He wondered when Sai would decide to take revenge or if he ever would because he seemed to find it as funny as Sakurai did.

Natsumi, though…

She was creepy. This could not be said often enough.


	5. Duties of a worthy cause

Sakurai remembers his first meeting with Sandaime Hokage clearly. His first personal one. He'd been given the mask of Agent Peacock the night before, after completing the trials and assignment to his team. The ANBU Commander had been curt with him, disapproving somehow, Sakurai'd thought, and he liked to believe that it was because they didn't like sending children to murder entire villages for a mission. The Hokage, however, had not been as kind to allow Sakurai a glimpse of his feelings. The leader of an entire village of professional killers had to be unreadable.

"Agent Peacock," the Hokage had greeted as he inspected the child kneeling before him. They had held each other's eyes for long moments through the slits of his mask.

He'd said nothing. He tended to dislike calling anyone anything that so clearly denoted social standing and expectations of obedience. As ANBU, he was meant to speak as little as possible, since speech and inflection could give away his identity. Not, that he was known to many in the village.

He'd had his first mission, then. He'd murdered the first person. He'd exerted force over the life of another human in such a way as to end it.

He'd been eight.

He sighed as he looked out over the village from the balcony of the Danuri household, a merchant family of some influence over the civilian population. Enari and Akari liked to have him over for dinner and other pleasant endeavours on rare occasions. They were fast asleep in their large bed, entangled in each other, hardly bothered by the vacant space he left between them a while ago.

He didn't bother to dress.

A Genin runner dropped onto the balcony, looking faintly embarrassed by his nudity, but handing him the scroll with only the faintest dusting of colour on their face. "Ah," he said, recognising the summons from the council for what it was. "Thanks."

The Genin nodded, before leaping off the balcony with a slight fumble. How cute.

He unfurled the scroll after checking for prying eyes. Orders for a full report before the Clan heads and the Hokage, as well as ANBU Commander and the Medic Commander. He'd known the day would come soon. "Ara," he murmured softly, hearing the rustling of fabric from the bed as Enari got up quietly, by civilian standards.

"Leaving us already?" he asked, no real disappointment to be heard in his voice.

Sakurai set the scroll on fire absently, turning to look the man in the eyes. As always, at the casual display of ninjutsu, the man was interested. "The work of a Jonin is not bound to daylight hours," he said in a vaguely apologetic tone. They both knew the true nature of ninja, after all. There was no need to pretend that he did not answer to the summons of more powerful people.

Enari stepped closer, mannerisms intent on a kiss goodbye. Strangely, they were always bittersweet.

Sakurai had always liked the combination.

Enari watched him dress. "You have new scars," he observed gently. It was not a request for information.

"They're why I've been in the village for so long. But you know what's coming," he replied despite this. He knew Enari could read the signs. "So this is goodbye for a while."

The merchant frowned. "Another kiss goodnight, then."

Sakurai obliged, this time dressed, Jonin vest heavy on his shoulders.

Then he left.

.

The Council was assembled fully when he entered the chambers.

"Jonin Haruno," Sandaime greeted. He was vaguely reminded of his earlier reminiscence.

He nodded his head to encompass them all in his greeting. He didn't speak.

"Give us a summarised report of the former Root-Agents under your supervision."

No surprises there. "They've all chosen names and extracurricular activities benefitting their emotional and mental growth."

There, short, concise. No need to let them know the extent of his attachment. It would make no difference. The Council did not care for anyone's feelings. Not even their own, in some cases. How very tragic, he thought somewhat ironically to himself.

"Combat capabilities?"

"All on the level of Tokubetso Jonin if allowed to apply themselves freely."

"Recommendation?"

"Assimilation into appropriate teams with reasonable capacities for dealing with the level of violence they would be subjected to daily," it almost hurt to say. It would be best for their emotional health to remain as they were for longer. Sakurai was no miracle worker.

"Then that's what we'll do," Sandaime decided. "You are to report to Commander Nara tomorrow by midday."

Sakurai said, "Hai," and turned to leave.

"Haruno-san," the Hokage said, "Thank you."

Sakurai smiled at him wryly. Then he left the room with a shunshin, leaving one leaf to float towards the Hokage gently, landing on his hat. A small mockery.

The Hokage chuckled, understanding the gesture for what it was. His thanks had not been for the children. Sakurai had let him know what he thought of that. He'd let him know clearly what he thought of putting the children back in the field. Sakurai had allowed the Hokage to know some measure of his true character. He'd known nothing but what had just transpired would come of it. But some days the fact that he could honestly say that he had tried was his only solace.

He went to get a drink in a den where ninja went to brood instead of taking each other home.

He was vaguely surprised to see his sister there, with the blonde Yamanaka who had been on the team to find him after that mission with Danzo. He waved at her when she registered him, and took a seat at the bar, slinging his vest over the back of the barstool, intending on staying a while. She could talk to her friend and come to him whenever their conversation allowed it.

"Haruno-san?" someone said from beside him. He lifted his eyes from his usual to find the stare of Sakura's academy teacher fixed on his face.

"Umino-sensei," he said, and waited to hear the reason for the man to initiate conversation.

"So you finally made Jonin?"

"Ah," he sighed, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Umino seemed not to place the reason for the smile anywhere nice.

"How are the students treating you these days?" Sakurai asked, considering his drink once more. There was no real interest there, but he could tell the derision in the man's voice when he answered.

"They're struggling with the new, sped-up curriculum."

"Ara? Already?"

"Of course, they're not used to it," there was a slightly defensive note in the teacher's tone.

"Not what I meant."

"What, then?"

"I wasn't aware they'd reinstated war-time curriculum already. Thought they'd give it more time," Sakurai explained to the last of his drink.

"War-time curriculum?" the teacher repeated, voice below a whisper.

Sakurai glanced at him. The man seemed to have genuinely only just realised what the changes were. How odd. He'd pegged him for the observant type. Perhaps he was too young to remember. Perhaps, as a teacher, he was too busy to see all the other signs pointing clearly towards prolonged violent conflict. The merchant caravans hadn't started slowing yet, but it was bound to be only a matter of weeks.

He said nothing and signalled for a refill.

"Is that why they promoted you?" the question was rude, by all standards, but Sakurai thought he appreciated the honesty in the lack of tact. He'd had to be so careful with the Hokage, the children and his odd minder. He chose to see this as an offer to speak bluntly.

"In parts," he admitted, "Circumstances demand a certain number of Jonin. Can't properly show force without the right numbers. They won't pull you out of the Academy, if you comply with the curriculum."

From his other side Hatake, who had sat down some time between his signal for a refill and the teacher's question, snorted. "Maa. So cynical tonight, Haruno-san."

Sakurai shrugged without meeting the man's stare. Instead he appreciated the odd symmetry of being flanked by Sakura's former and current teachers. How he missed the times when he hadn't been anyone of interest. He'd been just another face, just another person making their living in a village that controlled so many aspects of its citizen's lives. He would never again be no one of note.

"Hatake-sensei," Umino greeted.

"Umino-sensei," was the reply, and Sakurai felt some old tension in the exchange. He was vaguely amused and smiled at his glass. In between fronts, as always. Though usually he was aware of the reasons for the conflict. Then again, thinking of his sister and honorary little brother, he could imagine. It was why he told Umino to think carefully about not adapting to the curriculum. Not, that he thought the man was that stupid. The graduates would be sent out as soon as they received their headbands. They would earn them outside the village walls, most likely.

Or die. Most would die.

"I heard you're relieved of your babysitting duties," Hatake said. What a liar. He'd been Sakurai's minder for weeks now. No point in letting one experienced soldier get morose enough about the approaching war that he'd get thoughts of a nature that would deprive the village of resources. It kept them both busy. How he hated the T&I division for determining the one person Sakurai couldn't fool about his mental state. Hatake was even more messed up than Sakurai.

"Already?" Sakurai repeated his earlier reply. He could appreciate symmetry. Teacher and teacher. Orders and orders. Kunai and kunai.

"News like that travels quickly," the man replied, and Sakurai could tell he was smiling with his visible eye. What a pity. He was in no mood to be teased tonight.

"Aa," he said.

"A man of few words today, Haruno-san?" Hatake continued, and Sakurai vaguely wondered when the man would get to the point, if he had one. He usually did.

Finally, he decided to look at him. There was something like curiosity there, and something else, less… light. He decided to leave the latter unnamed. Simpler. No need for acknowledgement without a name, after all, eh? Numbers for names for children. Still drove him mad. Good thing he could draw some satisfaction from the mission that had put him in his unwanted position.

His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile at the thought. At least they had names now.

"Sensei, are you bothering nii-san?" Sakura, sweet little sister that she was, glared at her teacher.

"Me?" the man asked innocently. She snorted. So cute, trying to protect him. He loved her to bits.

Sakurai twisted the stool to face her. When he slumped over, they were of a height. She frowned at him. "Let's go home, nii-san," she said, "Thanks, sensei."

"Whatever for, Sakura-chan?"

"For picking up the tab, of course," and they left him there, Umino long gone, to settle the bill.

Sakurai did so enjoy his sister's taste for petty revenge. They ended up in her apartment, on the sofa, sharing an embrace like they used to when she was small.

"What will happen now?" she asked, and he breathed in her scented hair. He disliked strong smells, but Sakura had always been subtle in certain matters.

He sighed and let go of her a bit to look her in the eyes. "We're preparing for war, imouto. I'll be with the jonin Commander for now, until someone needs replacing."

Her face, already apprehensive, twisted into distaste at the casual mention of either the death of a comrade, or their crippling injuries. He'd learned not to be squeamish about these things long ago. It was what it was. He had the power to change things only when he was at the scene. There was no point in sparing his sympathies for people whose fates never had been in his hands.

"There'll be a few missions that prepare the outposts. Those who are sent on those will stay there for the most part. I'll be getting a look at the roster tomorrow, I imagine. Then I'll know more."

"What will they send us to do?"

"With Sai on your team… you'll be some of the first ones on the front lines," he frowned. He'd never liked her team's propensity for being heavy hitters. He'd never wanted her or Naruto amidst the blood and gore that was the frontlines. "Be careful, Sakura. Trust your team above all others. Even orders."

"What?" she frowned. He wasn't usually this direct, he supposed.

"With all these invasions going on, and spies having been uprooted recently, the chain of command has shown itself to be less than invulnerable. So be careful. Listen to every rumour. They'll tell you how worried the others are, how paranoid. The most worried ones won't speak at all. Trust your team, Sakura. Protect them at all costs, and especially from bad orders. I know you can tell the difference," he'd been sure to enforce Hatake's lessons on that. Subtly, he admitted, but he wasn't about to let her dive into the deep end without knowing how to get out. And she would. Get out. "War isn't easy. It's not simple, and there will be betrayals. You'll have to do things you never wanted to. Especially as a medic."

"I always forget that you used to be part of the third ninja war," she murmured. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how much older he actually was. He made an effort to keep young, after all.

He smiled. "I have a hard time trusting people, Sakura. You'll see why soon."

And she would see what it meant to look at corpses and see only red meat.

She would know what the slick of brain matter felt like between toes.

She would know what the vision of comrades in a battle craze could do to you.

She would know what it meant to lock away the human inside.

She would know.

And he hated it.

.

"I need to be able to trust in your capabilities as a jonin," the Jonin Commander stated flatly. Sakurai eyed him speculatively. Asking to be demoted now would not be a wise decision. "You, as an unaffiliated jonin will be on rotation for the most dangerous missions as backup or replacement. In some cases, you might lead rescues with one other operative," the jounin commander considered him for a moment. Then out of some sense of kindness, or pity, he continued. "The Root agents will be integrated into separate teams as you recommended. Are you capable of taking on this responsibility?"

He didn't bother to suppress his sigh. "Yes."

"A little more enthusiasm, Haruno-san!" the Yamanaka Clan Head admonished.

"Yay," Sakurai said tonelessly, and brought out a smile in the Nara's scarred visage. The man was as shrewd as could be. He knew that Sakurai would do what he must. Especially to ensure the safety and return of his comrades. They were the ones who protected his family, after all. It was the leaders of the villages that he blamed for this. Secretly.

But he knew that the Hokage knew. He'd made it obvious for him what Sakurai valued. By inference, also what he loathed.

"Good of you," he said, "Until you are sent on your first mission, you'll help me here, organising forces and strategies. It will give you a chance to learn the faces of the active roster outside of ANBU."

And you'll be glad to have a gopher with the right clearance. "Okidoki," Sakurai said, resigned to his temporary fate. He wondered at the fact that they hadn't put him through torture training again before this. Sensitive information like this usually came with more tests.

The Commander sighed, then led him to his desk that was thrice the size of Sakurai's dinner table. Right. Map. Troops. Files stacked high.

"Read those and give me a suggestion for placements," he gestured to the map. "Inoichi can answer some of your questions about the profiles."

Sakurai shrugged off his vest and got comfortable leaning against the wall with the first file. He nodded at the Yamanaka Clan Head absently before he began.

He had his first draft open on the map, but he felt it wasn't right. He had taken into account the likely placements of enemy troops, but it all seemed so obvious.

"What's our intelligence on Sound like?" he asked, scratching his chin.

"Vague beyond the structures," the Yamanaka said.

Sound knew everything about Konoha's war protocols. It was too late to change them now, but there had to be a way of utilising them in a way that would not make their movements obvious to the enemy. There should be an active commander on that front at all times, Sakurai thought and considered the jonin. Someone who could structure an impenetrable wall to be flexible. Someone whose thoughts weren't easily clouded by failure. They would be up against Orochimaru.

He removed a file from the stack and opened it. Sarutobi Asuma. He'd have to arrange for Yuuhi to rotate through the area often. That would make her a good liaison between the Sound and (village) fronts. They would have to coordinate. Since their teams were compatible, they could definitely be sent on joint missions. Tracking and information gathering, one of which had a Nara, the other an Aburame. Yes. They were capable, and strong. They would have to be around Sound.

He considered the few he had not assigned to specific duties. They would have to be flexible, these ones. He anticipated the interference of the Akatsuki in several key areas to deal as much damage possible to the villages with jinchuuriki. Especially if it could benefit their capture. It would be best for Konoha to show some weakness on that front, nothing too obvious, but there should not be unnecessary losses in attempting to never allow the Akatsuki close.

It was best to protect Naruto by keeping him on the move. Preferably with another team. He considered Team Gai. But that would be very predictable. Sakurai would prefer an undercover team of ANBU. If he wasn't entirely out of the loop, which he knew he wasn't, he'd kept a close eye on his old team, they were fully recovered and Kangaroo was now Team Captain. A good replacement for him, better than he'd been in the position, he thought. Introduce them to Team Kakashi slowly, in rotation with Team Gai. Yes. That left Sakura well-protected, which she would need in order to grow.

It was the smell of hot buns that brought him from his thoughts.

Two miniatures of the men he'd been sharing silence with since he came in entered the office. They were two thirds of the team that had been with him on the return journey from his Danzo mission. Sakura had mentioned something along the lines of Ino-Pig-Achoo in regards to team placements when they had all graduated. Ah, time passed rather quickly. He was thirty now, wasn't he? He was getting old for a shinobi.

He noted that he was quite hungry.

"Haruno-san?" the older Yamanaka asked almost gently. Sakurai looked at him to find a smile on his face.

"So you _are_ Sakura's family," the daughter stated, blatant in her scrutiny.

"You know Sakura?" he asked in lieu of another response that he thought he would liked to have given, but he did have to work with her father for the foreseeable future and thought better of it.

"We're best friends," she nodded at her own words. Why, then, had he never met her before? Why did he know her only as Ino-Pig from stories that involved some sort of nasty affair surrounding the Uchiha on Sakura's team?

He didn't lift his brows. "I see," he lowered Maito's file to the table and looked at the young Nara who had moved to the window to look at the clouds. He was paying attention to the conversation. Sakurai met the eyes of the Commander and shrugged back into his vest. "I'm going for lunch," he told his superior and received a nod.

He made his way around the table.

"Awfully rude of you to leave when we've just arrived," she half-teased, not quite familiar enough and less flirtatious that it would've been without her father in the room. She was aware of her beauty, as most kunoichi were forced to be.

He didn't supress the slight crease between his eyebrows. "I lost all manners when I turned ten," he stated, offering no flirtation, presenting an unapproachable front. He had one or two hungry children with names instead of numbers to feed. He ambled out with a "Later."

.

They were still there when he returned one and a half hours later, slightly less happy with the situation because the children feared his loss now that they'd be separated. He understood. But he'd grown fond of them. He'd worry. But they would be best protected in teams. He could not look after them during a war. He required a team that matched his skills. Of the children, only Natsumi could work efficiently with him and she was too young, too small to face the opponents he would take on.

"You have blood on your neck," the daughter greeted.

"Ah?" he said and raised a hand to wipe it away. Natsumi's, then, from hers and Pip's spar. He wiped it on a handkerchief from his pocket. Then he went to sit at one of the chairs, shrugging off the vest as he went.

"Why did you have blood on you?" she asked, exasperated at his lack of explanation.

"Lunch attacked me," he said. It was true. He'd caught the bowl Hiruki'd thrown at him in anger with its contents inside. That had made the boy even angrier. Things had escalated from there.

"Your lunch put blood on you?"

"It was very lively."

He wondered vaguely when she would bore of this.

"Can't believe it," she muttered to her father, "There's two of them."

"Right?" the man replied, jovial, "You should read-"

He cut himself off at Sakurai's sudden interest. So the man had copied some of his writings and wanted him to know. He returned his attention to the file. He had no patience for these games and the small provocations. That was why ANBU was comfortable. People didn't bother there.

The normal ranks thought either it was necessary to keep up the practise of speaking in code, or they thought they needed to toy and provoke their comrades. The latter category usually belonged to the T&I department. Sakurai had no patience for either.

He could see what went on in the village just fine. He needed no coded rumours. He needed no prods. He didn't need the constant reminder of others' intelligence. He was already aware. He refused to care or participate.

"You were a lot more talkative the last time we met," she observed.

He did not look at her as he replied, "I was under a lot of stress, then."

He no longer had to make himself feel that he was existent outside of his own head. The blood on his handkerchief made that plain enough.

The young Nara snorted softly, "Troublesome."

Sakurai sighed an agreement.

His sister's 'friend' walked over to observe him more closely. He didn't let it bother him. He'd not written down his work, and instead used chakra imprints on the side of the table to keep track of his thought-process. Already the marks were fading, but he knew their meanings and reinforced the relevant ones.

"What's made you so…" she gestured to him.

He glanced at her. Was she serious?

Then again, perhaps she could not feel the way the village and its inhabitants raised the defences. She'd grown up in a stable environment in a village that was largely at peace. All tensions had been visible only to the trained eye. The massacre had been the culmination of machinations that would never have touched her.

"Cherish the last vestiges of peace," he told her.

"Vestiges?" she questioned.

He had to suppress a snort. She _had_ been the one to pick him up with the dead village elder, hadn't she? There was no twin who he'd missed.

He sighed and decided the conversation was pointless. He put the file down and considered his work.

"Sarutobi's file is accurate, isn't it?" he asked her father.

"Yes. It was updated last week," the man replied, in a slightly colder manner than before. Sakurai felt the urge to sigh at him. Yamanaka. Too curious, too manipulative, all of them.

Then, he thought, the only one who might argue was the Hokage. Their relationship might have been tainted by the man's position, but Sakurai was sure that the son had used the time as part of the daimyo's guard to gain some emotional distance. The question was, had his father?

Before Sakurai would investigate the question, the Commander would have to approve of the placement.

Before he outlined all of that, the children would have to leave. He doubted they'd repeat anything they'd heard, but they hadn't had any torture training at all, as far as he knew, and what training they did with chunin was not enough to protect the information he would be speaking out loud.

He could wait.

He used the time to go over the plans he'd made. It took some time before the daughter would give up her post near him. And it took some more before she and the young Nara left.

.

Sakurai stared at the Hokage. Beside him, Hatake had gone stiff. That was, his hand had clenched in his pocket and Sakurai inferred that he felt the same as he did.

"You're a cruel man, Hokage-sama," he finally said and left the office.

They were chosen for the recruitment pitch to the children in kindergarden or civilian elementary school.

Hatake's voice was barely a whisper. "Hokage-sama," before he fell into step with Sakurai.

He thought then, that it might not have been the T&I department that recommended Hatake to be his minder. It might just have been that cruel, cruel man.

"Hokage-sama," Umino Iruka, still in the office with the man after the two jonin had left, asked his leader confusedly, "Why do you allow him to speak to you this way?"

Sarutobi Hiruzen let out his breath of smoke and looked the young teacher in the eye. "Because he's correct. Because, as cruel as I am, he knows that I have made an effort to insure his continued presence in the village. He's shown me who he is in an attempt to dissuade me from giving him the responsibility of watching over the group of Root Agents that weren't killed. You've met him, Iruka. You know that precisely because he is who he is he is the best choice to inspire candidates to join the academy."

And Iruka, thinking of Sakurai's kind, scarred visage, he thought that yes, this was true. Sakurai was a protector. He looked like one.

Children could feel such things.

The Hokage was a cruel man.

Because Haruno Sakurai wanted nothing more than a simple life with his loved ones. And by sending him to recruit, he would be forced to weigh his performance against the lives of comrades that could be saved by sending in fresh soldiers. And the Hokage seemed to know exactly which course of action the man would choose.

In thinking all this, Iruka didn't realise that his leader hadn't properly answered his question.

.

They swung by the recruitment office to warn them and pick up enough forms for the children to take home. Sakurai felt his gut tighten and started his breathing exercises. There was no point in talking with Hatake to distract the man. There hadn't been in weeks.

"Lunch first?" the man suggested out of nowhere.

Sakurai thought that it was an odd attempt at getting them both off their anger.

"How about a spar first?" he was joking. He knew Hatake would decline. But he so dearly wanted to punch someone. And Hatake, for all his emotional vulnerability, could take it.

"Sure thing. Training ground three?"

Sakurai, startled, could only follow.

What the fuck?

Maybe Hatake wanted to punch someone, too.

A smile began to spread on his face. It was not a nice one.

.

They decided on taijutsu only. Perhaps unfair for Hatake and his thousand jutsu, but… they wanted to get down and dirty. They wanted to hurt someone.

That that someone wanted the exact same thing only made it consensus.

Hatake was fast, Sakurai knew that. He also knew they were both recovering from injuries.

They made the seal of confrontation.

Dodge. Kick, twist, finish kick. Redirect punch.

Move to break arm, use elbow to block knee. Move around foot, try to unbalance.

They broke apart, bruises already littering their limbs beneath their clothes.

Hatake smiled. And Sakurai thought, this is fun.

They beat each other up.

Then they went to kindergarden under henge to hide the black eye Hatake was beginning to sport and fingerprints around Sakurai's throat.

The kids were.

Kids.

Children.

Excited.

Lied to.

They didn't do much. Propaganda had already insured the coolness factor of their profession. Their appearances did the rest.

"Do you think I could become a ninja?" one of the older ones, a shy girl asked Sakurai, big brown eyes hopeful.

She had an active chakra network. "You can do anything you want," he told her and meant 'do anything else. Anything at all.'

Her smile was blinding, missing a few teeth. "Thanks! I'll do my best!"

He'd feared so.

He patted her head gently. Gave her a smile. She was not skilled enough to see it for the pained grimace that it was.

.

"Who did this?" Sakura asked.

"Ah, it was just a spar, Sakura," Sakurai said, allowing her healing chakra to soothe the fingerprints on his throat.

"You don't spar," she said. "What upset you?"

So observant. So concerned. Sakurai was proud of her. His heart ached. "I was assigned recruitment duty today."

It took her a moment.

Then her face grew thunderous. "What. I thought you were with Command."

"The Jonin Commander said I should take a week before he needed me again. Which freed me up for other tasks."

In truth, what the Nara had said had been 'Stay away until I'm done with your drafts.' Sakurai had taken that to mean a week tops, and gone to the mission assignment desk because the kids had already been assigned. And from there, he'd been summoned to the Hokage's office. Where he'd been assigned the dreadful task of making children want to sign up to be professional killers and unknowingly participate in a war.

Sort of ironic how, back when the Kyuubi attack had happened and not-so mysteriously claimed their Hokage's life, Sakurai'd morosely thought 'Third time's the charm.' After all, the third had been forced to take up the mantle once more. Sakurai remembered clearly how the other candidates, Uchiha Rai; Hyuuga Retsu and Kaname Zaki, had all been either out on missions or hospitalised. Perhaps his unkind, callous thoughts were coming back to bite him then.

Sakura, in the tense silence that followed, appeared to struggle with the conflicting desire of wanting to let the Sandaime know a piece of her mind and finishing his healing.

"You know," he then said because while he liked being able to tell how much he meant to her, he also didn't want to be the cause for more of her agitation than he naturally was, "He's just testing whether I can function outside of ANBU and be fully trusted."

Her lips thinned. Her chakra never wavered as she took care of a bruised rib.

"He won't keep doing this. He's aware that I have limits. He's aware that I could decide to find a way to retire. And he's seeing just what it would take."

"For you to break," she finished harshly.

"Well. In a way, you're right," he agreed. "But he's the leader of our village. That means that he's basically got the power to do whatever he likes."

"No, that's not what a leader should be. If anything else happens it's not leadership any more. It'll be abuse."

It startled him enough to laugh. "Sakura," he said, still smiling, "I was in ANBU. Let's not talk about abuse, eh?"

"No. Let's."

He frowned at her.

"I know you know what should and shouldn't've happened. I was there for some of those rehabilitation sessions. Kakashi-sensei says you were more aware of the boundaries that had to be established than most other jounin he knows. And before you point out Kakashi-sensei's regular acquaintances, he's friends with Yuuhi-san and Sarutobi-san."

"I thought," he said slowly, "That you were aware of my young age when I was drafted into ANBU instead of the regular forces. It wasn't what I wanted most, but it was where I was put. I had no way of fighting the placement without coming up with some twisted way of having to prove my loyalties all the time. And my grip on reality and what really mattered was very… lax. That I'm now in a position where my loyalty is questioned despite over a decade of service to the village and what its best interests are at any time has little to do with my complacency back then. It has to do with what knowledge I've gained about the village, about its leaders, _about what makes a ninja loyal_. Sakura, I am one of those individuals who could, with the right motivation sew just the right seed of doubt for another nin to begin questioning not only their immediate superiors, but the Hokage himself. And it is this that makes me so dangerous. It is this that makes the Hokage want to be absolutely certain of what I would do."

"That doesn't make it right."

"No. But we must all take a measure of abuse over the course of our lives. Mine just has a bit more of that than others. That doesn't make my life worse, though. At least, not to me. I've always had my own reasons for becoming a ninja. They used to be about being able to stand on my own in any situation. And as I grew older they turned into wanting to secure the home I made for myself here. You know, the reasons why I'm still here and not somewhere gallivanting along the countryside as a missing nin are you, dad and my friends. I decided that you were the most important things to me and that I would do a great deal to protect you. If that means deceiving small children into becoming ninja one day in order to replenish troops on the battlefield, then that's what I'll do," she seemed ready to tell him that he could shove his protection where the sun don't shine, but he continued, "And, while I'm not that self-sacrificing, if I didn't do it, someone else would have to."

"So that's why Sandaime-sama gave you those Root recruits. He wants you to have more ties to the village, and he wants you to get you more involved in village life."

"Also," Sakurai pointed out, "Currently I'm one of the few ninja whom they could respect in some twisted way. I killed their Danzo-sama and they know it."

"That sets a dangerous mentality, though. That respect can be passed to someone who killed the previous recipient."

"Yes. But it appeared to be either that, or the insecurity of their exact loyalties to the extreme that we would've all felt safer removing the problem before it… rooted."

"You're terrible," she snorted.

He smiled. Yes. He was.

She still loved him.

His insides were beginning to thaw after that discussion.

* * *

 **[Apologies to those of you who were looking forward to interactions between Sakurai and the Root Agents. I tried, but was unable to write anything remotely acceptable, so this is what you get instead.]**


	6. Interlude

**[A snippet of younger Sakurai]**

* * *

When confronted with the reality of his new reality, Sakurai felt like screaming. So, naturally, he waited until he was relatively sure he was safe, and did just that. He was vaguely surprised his pillow managed to stifle the noise enough that no concerned neighbours came knocking, since his mother had left to go shopping. The reason he had been able to hold on to his composure, was the patience he learned as an infant.

Limited visual and auditory capacities had forced him to adjust his control over his emotions. While the odd temper tantrum was expected of a child, Sakurai felt slightly debased afterwards, and so left these bursts of emotion for times when he would have protested to the point of violent resistance as an adult.

He was two years old. There had always been something odd about this new place he had been born into. He had thought, 'fine, I was reborn into some Asian country with my memories intact, so what'. He'd learn the language and pave a way for himself. It would be a new journey.

Well, chakra was what. Konoha was what. Ninja were what. Inevitably violent death was what.

And, he'd thought, Fuck that.

He was going to live as he pleased.

The way of life that pleased him, incidentally, was that of a quiet civilian life. Perhaps a bit of travelling. Living entirely without a beach trip or never going hiking again was not an option for him.

And so, the relatively recently named Sakurai began to figure out the safest way to achieve his goals.

At first, it had seemed to look relatively simple: become a travelling merchant.

Two problems: he needed capital first. His family's funds were inadequate for his plans. The other was a far more imminent concern. Travelling merchants lead dangerous lives. It was a reason for why the trade was so lucrative, but they also died frequently. He had pieced together an average life expectancy for those merchants: five years.

Well. Fuck that, too.

So, if he wanted to travel, he would have to learn to defend himself from bandits, rounin (because rogue samurai were also a thing. Because why not?) and enemy ninja. The last of the three would be the trickiest thing to accomplish. Ninja were trained killers. There were, he figured, at the very least half, if not two thirds, of the population's offspring in the academy for ninja. And, their lord and master was the best of them, instead of actual nobility. Of course, the ninja had the equivalent: Clans.

They trained their children from a very young age, and only those with underdeveloped chakra coils would not become ninja. In wartime, children with functioning chakra networks do not get to choose their profession. It is simply not a choice. The idea of perhaps doing other things was not introduced to young children, not even those of civilian parents.

Clans also had an impressive amount of power within this military dictatorship.

Chakra made ninja wizards. Dangerous, serial killing wizards who wouldn't hesitate to take a life if someone was suspicious. Sakurai, pink haired, abnormally intelligent, _wanting_ to live his life on the road with a profession that had an equal death-rate as ninja-dom… well.

As it was, Sakurai's best chance of survival when realising his plans of travelling this new world, were to enter the academy and learn some new tricks. He already manipulated his chakra to pick up things for him when he was feeling lazy, or his small body was exhausted. He already thought of the best ways and times to sneak into the kitchen for snacks without too much hassle. He already exhausted himself every day to further his endurance and his range. Being practically immobile was rather unpleasant after living as an adult and travelling wherever he pleased. He knew he had an obsessive need to be in control of his own body. That body had chakra.

Until a time when he would be seen as an adult, he was confined to Konoha, and the times he could slip away from his stay-at-home mother. Those times were the ones he liked best. He was free to be who he was when alone in the garden, which had high fences and taller trees. There was also an old training ground nearby, where he found small knives that seemed to have rusted considerably after being forgotten. He busied himself with sanding them down and returning them to serviceable standards. Couldn't hurt to be armed when no one expected him to.

And once there was an incident where he was (un)lucky enough to witness the death of a man by thrown _kunai_ right in front of him, he began to practise throwing them.

He saw no point in wasting what little paper his parents had with writing down his thoughts, his knowledge. He had faith that ninja would be able to crack the language, the code if he gave only one hint. And he would give hints, he was certain of that.

Once he had his quiet life away from Konoha, he would write down his experiences, his life, and translate them into any other language he reasonably knew from his old life. In case someone else ever ended up in the same situation.

He figured, watching and learning more about this world, that the Genin Corps would do perfectly for his purposes. Certainly, they mostly weeded gardens, or carried messages, or patrolled the village walls under the command of a chuunin or jounin. But it would be perfect for Sakurai. He had no intention of becoming one of those legendary figures like the Sannin, or the White Fang, or the Flash Thunder God. He didn't want to know their kill-count.

All he wanted was to see the world and enjoy his new life.

He had, of course, thought of perhaps not travelling and remaining in the village. But he'd always been a free spirit and there was no scenario that he could envision in which he would not, at some point in this new place, be willing to kill to get what he wanted. Ultimately, freedom. He was lucky enough to possess it in the form of his thoughts, his mind, that had not been indoctrinated with love for the village and devotion to the Hokage.

So he developed vague plans to become a shinobi, do his fair share of jobs, pretend to fall in love with a civilian from outside of the village to retire and follow them. Then he wouldn't be a nukenin, and he'd get to do as he pleased.

That plan was hit over the head with a hammer, and taken from behind with a vigour befitting Jiraiya of the Sannin.

Incidentally, Sakurai had met said pervert on the very same day that his life turned for the worse.

You see, he had been fairly content where he was, his parents were kind people, though not to each other, and his living situation was comfortable and more than met his standards. Even with the thought of living in a world where a wrong move could get him killed instead of a slap on the wrist, he felt he could make his way here. There had been little left in his old world when he had passed, and he hadn't had much to begin with. So, he was fine with learning to defend himself in this place, because he felt it was insane not to, but never advancing far, because he felt it was insane _to_ do.

As such, the Genin Corps was very appealing to him. He had even done his research. He would be required to do errands and run courier missions for equal the amount of time he was in the academy. And during those six years he would receive a fair salary for the kinds of jobs he would be doing. The benefits were that he would know the basics of how he could defend himself, without being required to ever really put his life on the line any more than he had every single day of his past life, what with car accidents and all that.

Of course, then suddenly a war was waging, and he expected to be forced into confrontations. But if he could just manage to… run fast enough, well, he wouldn't mind being called a traitor, and couriers were meant to value the scrolls they carried above their own lives in any case. He might have enough time to escape.

He later realised what a pretty little delusion that had been.

But in the beginning of his academy years, he had even managed to accomplish his goal of being perfectly average with little effort. His physical prowess was average, his test results were average, his behaviour was average, he was very, very average. Just how he wanted it. No need to be hailed a genius when it would later become apparent that his intellect was no greater than the other adults'.

Even at home, his situation was fairly average. His mother stayed at home for the most part, his father worked nine to five hours most days. He would later realise that it was an odd thing, for a parent to remain home with their child so much of the time. It had to do with his mother's illness. Although his mother did take shifts at the civilian emergency shelters to make certain they were properly stocked in the event of an invasion, she stayed home most of the time. Overall, they were content with their lots in life. They however seemed to have only married because of Sakurai. A bastard child was in some cases treated worse than an orphan and so he was grateful they would make that kind of decision for him.

The social stigma of the village was something he would never understand, and so he treated everyone equally, even if it did give him a reputation of being rather informal. His father, a simple and easily contented man, approved of this, felt it was a good attitude towards life in general. His mother less so. Her beliefs were staunch with civilian traditions that neither Sakurai nor his father, the child of shinobi without mentionable chakra coils of his own, could understand. So it was that their relationship was not as much a loving one as it could have been.

Nonetheless, Sakurai was content enough and he felt that was all he would want from this life. To live as he pleased, ever seeking happiness.

Of course, as is the case in most lives, things did not continue to go perfectly well for him.

He, for reasons neither his parents nor his lineage could explain, excelled at manipulating chakra. And, because he had no standards he could hold himself to, he did not realise that he was one of the best in his class. He had thought he was fairly average, as was the case everywhere else. He didn't think to pay much attention to carefully doctored histories or the shinobi rules or the Will of Fire or the basic mathematics. He did pay attention to sign language lessons, trap lessons, taijutsu and so on. He liked learning new skills. And so it came that two years into his academy years, his teacher began to subtly test him for aptitude.

Sakurai did not notice this at first.

Which was how said teacher found out that while he never slept in class, he did daydream and play around a little, sort of bending the light falling through the window into funny cartoony shapes on his desk, sometimes even silhouetting films from his original lifetime for his entertainment and to not forget them. It was a silly little past time, but the teacher took note of it.

Unknowingly, Sakurai had exposed himself as a child with sufficient intellect to pass all of his tests without paying attention to class.

He had no idea that his teacher was onto him until one day he noticed how much longer the man lingered over his form in any lesson he had with him. At first, he thought it was because of his hair colour. The other children had attempted to make fun of him for it, but he saw nothing wrong with it, since he never planned to make it farther than Genin in the first place. Besides, it was rather fun to make girls jealous over _hair_ , beauty standards could be so odd. But he soon noted that it wouldn't be the hair, since the teacher had known him for two years already and never been bothered.

So, Sakurai began to watch him back, discreetly. No need to call attention to himself by blatantly staring. He had no desire to be subjected to a lecture about respect and who you did and didn't look at for certain amounts of time.

What he found were suspicious looks every time he handed in a test, every time he failed an exercise and every time he played his cartoons on his desk.

There was, of course, deliberation of whether he should act as though he had caught on that he had been caught, but he felt it would only make the suspicion worse. If he continued as he had, it might become a conclusion that this was simply in his nature, that he did not hold himself at his current level _deliberately_. After all, what child would? The propaganda they were spoon-fed from the moment they were born should have made his psyche into one where he would do his best for the village. The only ones who really got away with it were the Nara, and they had figured out the recipe to keeping their geniuses alive long ago.

Therefore, he reasoned, he would continue. The jig was up, but if no one actually said anything, it wouldn't make a difference. He would still follow through on his aspirations to become a member of the Genin Corps and retire six years later to open something as useless and endlessly rewarding as a travelling sweets shop. It had been a small passion of his back when he had worked part-time in a bakery to create small biscuits or bake cakes. He would be content to do that again and with his foreign recipes he was guaranteed a success in some way. Hopefully, until then, the war would have ended.

He continued as was his habit to be average, but didn't match his abilities in ninjutsu to the other children, for he felt it was the one area he liked enough to give it his all as he had been doing from the beginning.

But his peace was not to last.

.

What Sakurai did not know, because he was born to civilian parents, was that there were ANBU scouts on the lookout every year for children gifted in subterfuge and stealth. Children that could, with time and training, become members of the most elite and bloodied kind of ninja in Konoha. He had been marked as a potential recruit as soon as his teacher noticed his ability and lack of effort.

When the time came for the ANBU recruiters to select some children whom they could train to become assassins and infiltrators, they took a closer look at Sakurai.

And what they found was a child that had for all intents and purposes downplayed his own intelligence for years, had been careful to never show any exceptional talents except for in an area where he could never have properly gauged what was average, and went to exercise and practise in an abandoned training ground not far from his house. They found an individual of great maturity when he was on his own, a child with a remarkable observational talent when it came to his parents and when diffusion of a brewing argument was needed. In short, they found the perfect ANBU recruit.

Now, Sakurai being who he was, told them to buzz off as politely as he could when told that there was a prestigious and most valued branch of Konoha military that would like to recruit him. Now, there may have been a war going on outside the village walls, but this much he could refuse. ANBU had little need for unwilling recruits. And, for a time it appeared to have worked.

But there came one morning when Namikaze Minato arrived, pet genius in tow, to 'inspect the academy and test the students' skills'. It was an odd occurrence, Sakurai thought, since the man would be in a far better place at the warfront, of which they had been told heroic stories about the Yellow Flash, who struck awe in their little Konoha-living hearts.

Sakurai was, of course, displeased with this development. The man was someone they were conditioned to admire, to want to emulate and in order for him not to end up in T&I for a thorough brainwashing like a poor wannabe Winston Smith, he would have to pretend to want to impress on this very special day in the academy.

As it were, he felt the easiest way to show everyone that he should be and always would be nothing more than a genin, was to pick a fight with the little tag-along the man had. Hatake Kakashi was widely known as a genius and prodigy, even if his family name was spoken with something akin to pitying distaste. To Sakurai, the perfect person to beat him into the ground.

The boy's attention was easily secured, and his temper easily prodded into almost explosive life. A few words about his resemblance to a certain someone, even if Kakashi had no idea who Sakurai was really talking about, and he was ready to pummel the pink-haired annoyance into an unrecognisable bloody mess.

Sakurai had not accounted for the other child's lack of restraint at this point in time. He had not been a chuunin for long, and Sakurai, at eight years old, was less than capable of withstanding any amount of suffocation for long.

And so, he had not thought he would be taking on someone very able and very willing to kill him.

He… took the fight seriously. He figured he made the mess, he should at least own up to it. Be prepared to follow through on the consequences, even for yourself.

He didn't win that fight. Of course not.

He emulated one of his very own childhood heroes: A certain pirate who would always take the most honourable of pirate traditions to heart. After it became obvious that Kakashi was intending to kill him slowly and painfully, Sakurai ran.

He led the genius on a merry chase, first though the academy, then the village. And, halfway through this odd game of chase, he suddenly realised he was _enjoying_ himself. With a laugh and a sudden dive off of the roof, sliding through an open window with precision, he gave the enraged genius the slip by navigating through homes and houses, and generally confusing his trail with _too much_ influx of information when on the lookout for someone. His last stop was a bathhouse, where he met the famous Toad Sage himself, spying on the women. He left the man to it, after he waited with him until sundown, enjoying the poking fun at the pervert and keeping him from peeping in front of what the man thought was a young girl. Sometimes his hair came in handy.

Back at home, because where else would he go at the end of the day, awaited his teacher, together with a masked individual.

His mother, delighted that he had distinguished himself as a capable shinobi, someone to make the family proud, had indulged their desire for tea and waiting for Sakurai to get home.

His father, oddly serious, was less amused. "Sakurai," he said, "These two Shinobi are telling us you are being recruited into the ranks early, because of your aptitude."

"Ehehe… I don't wanna?" Sakurai replied, and was met with flat looks all around. "I like the academy," he tried again, "I don't want to graduate early."

His teacher first looked like he was about to tell him that he rarely paid attention in the first place, but thought better of it. "Even so, it would be a waste of your potential to keep you where you are," the man replied and Sakurai knew he was sort of fucked. But, well, he felt that not all was lost. Surely he could flunk out of their training and be sent to the Genin Corps.

Not so.

Two months in, he realised that he would not get away with deliberate failing. He would have to genuinely fail and fail hard.

The thing was, he had never actually failed at something before. Not really. And so, he had no idea of how to go about it.

No one believed him when he pretended not to grasp the concept of silence.

No one believed him when he pretended to be shitty at hand-to-hand combat, generally combat and that he had a problem seeing blood.

Or it was just that no one cared. Learn or die. Ironic that, should he fail to fail, he would fail. At remaining a simple genin.

Well, Sakurai had no desire to cut his second life short. Which was why he had wanted to become and remain a genin, always.

He had the brilliant idea to tell this to one of the instructors, who incidentally, would be his captain.

Fox-taichou was not amused.

Sakurai was beaten into shape.

And what a shape it was. He did not know it, but by the end of that month after his confession, he could have gone head to head with Hatake Kakashi and the outcome would have been uncertain.

A year in, and he had thoroughly earned his peacock mask, infiltrating easily, with his deceptively civilian appearance, and charming anyone within reach in order to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

All the hair-touching and crooning was really quite annoying. He was, on the inside, a grown man. It felt demeaning to a point where he wanted nothing more than to henge into his old self and scare them all away with a narrowing of his eyes. Tedious did not begin to describe it.

As was the war. Really, Sakurai almost counted himself lucky to be able to have missions that were the in-and-out sort, not the month-long deployment that the chuunin and jounin had to endure. While his official rank was that of a genin, he quickly rose in the chain of command of ANBU. He made squad-captain at thirteen, four-and-a-half years in.

The only good development of this was that he got to travel.

And realise that it really wasn't all that great when people treated foreigners with suspicion and sometimes violence instead of the welcoming exchange of culture he knew from his old world. The landscape, well, all he saw these days when a beautiful stretch of beach met his tired eyes, was an opportunity for Kiri nin to ambush.

.

So, Sakurai's goal was accomplished more or less, and with more than a hundred successful A and S rank missions under his belt, he retired to the not-so-active duty roster after six years in ANBU. It was a kind of luxury for him, for any ANBU captain really, to decide that you wanted less missions in peacetime. Naturally, Sakurai ceased this opportunity in both hands like a lifeline.

However, he never did have enough time to open that sweets-shop. But he did have his father on his couch almost every night since his mother fell pregnant once again. And Sakurai suspected, it was not with his father's child. With more time at home, and less outside of the village or training, he found the time to get to know his father, and even his now two-year-old half-sister with the same hair colour and almost identical name.

He even moved to a larger apartment and just handed his father the key to the spare bedroom. The stupidly grateful look his father sported made Sakurai want to hit the man, but he just left it at a flick to the forehead and a bottle of sake shared between them.

It turned out he got along well with his father, who, comically, could have been Sakurai's child, if they went by mental age.

The only blemish on his relatively peaceful existence was the fact that he was now forced to train the new ANBU recruits, so that he could be effectively replaced.


	7. Mission with Team Ten

[Sakurai's Mother POV]

There is always the fear. Inari is no stranger to courage, but there is always the obsessive, clingy lover named terror. Oppressive helplessness.

It is not fear of the ninja that travel the rooftops, capable of destroying her home with the few, odd contortions of their blood-caked, clean fingers. That is reality. That is what their world is like. That is all she knows, born in Konoha to civilian parents.

She is not afraid of their power. No, Inari is scared of what that power will do to her daughter. It's too late for her son – what is left of him anyway in that tall, broad, strong body whose eyes reflect her own- only in reverse. He is not afraid.

He is resigned. Sad.

Melancholy and desolate.

And then he visits and he smiles at her, kisses her cheek, tells her how good it is to see her after so long.

She wants-

Her little boy is gone.

She'd been naïve back then. Young. Unused to seeing the truth in things. It was the folly of youth. Her parents had cautioned her, when the war began. Sakurai had always been different, they had said. His placement in the academy had proven them right. Inari hadn't seen why it would be a bad thing, her son a ninja. She realises now that whatever her parents tried to tell her, carefully, cautiously against the ninja doctrine, she did not notice. She did not _think._

Her son had seen it far sooner than her. Moved out. Gave her then-husband a key, a room, a bed and a home to find out who they were apart from each other, without Sakurai to care for. Happier. They were happier. And that hurts more than anything, some days. She knows her ex-husband is now content, still has that key, but lives with his lover. She knows her son gave them more options, more reasons to pursue their own wants. It's strange, that he could do that, at such a young age, that he could see it. But, in essence, her son has always been what he is now. Insightful, and wise, if obnoxious at times.

Inari, she loved Sakurai. Still does, when she manages to forget. He's broken. Twisted the wrong way in his growth and got stronger in spite of it. His soul warped, his body honed for war, his mind made madness sharp enough to cut down enough enemies to survive.

For all that he hasn't really changed, being a ninja made him lose something of himself. Something crucial.

He'd been only nine when he was recruited into ANBU. She… only understood years later what it meant, those porcelain masks. When he wore one of those, he was not her son. She thinks it's a good development that he will no longer have to leave himself behind when he goes on missions. She just wonders if there's enough of him left to do that. He'd been careful to never let her see the blood on his armour.

She looks at him now as he indulges in a smoke with his stepfather, and thinks he's only jagged, softened for a night between pillows of comfort that he dares not touch more than a featherlight caress. He was the same with Sakura, in the beginning. He'd been so in awe of her. Of her innocence, Inari can now acknowledge. Now…

A bird lands on his raised forearm.

A scroll. A mission.

He stubs out the cigarette. He stands. Reads the orders.

Wishes them a good night. He'll be gone for a few weeks. He'll invite them to dinner when he's back.

Vanishes with only the stub as evidence of his presence. Leaves to go kill someone. That's what ninja do.

Inari is afraid that Sakura will look at her mother with the same grim understanding as her son does. He sees Inari. All of her.

He loves her.

And deep down, she knows, he hates her for bringing him into this world.

None of them asked for this.

.

 _Die Erziehungsmethoden befleißigen sich von einem bestimmten Punkt an,_ Denkhemmungen _zu setzen; sie tabuieren also gewisse zentrale Inhalte, welche die Ordnung der jeweiligen Gruppe garantieren. Das mögen einmal Respektbezeugungen vor Ahnen oder göttlichen Wesen, das andere Mal mehr irdische Besitz- und Herrschaftsordnungen sein. Ihnen gegenüber hört die Toleranz auf, und hier beginnt die harte Sanktion für Verstöße. Psychologisch bedeutet das, daß Ich-Leistungen – kritisches Fragen – früh durch Strafandrohung übermächtiger Wesen eingeschüchtert werden._ _S.102_

 _From a certain point onwards, methods of upbringing are cultivated to set_ inhibitors on thought _; they place a taboo on certain central contents which guarantee the order of the respective group. Those might be on the one hand testimonies of respect for ancestors or godly beings, on another more earthly orders of possession and rule. Their opposition is not met with tolerance, but instead with harsh sanctions for violations. Psychologically this means that I-accomplishments – critical questioning – are intimidated through threats of punishment by supremely powerful beings early on._

.

The problem is, Sakurai reflects as he takes in his mission assignment back in his flat, that even if there were attempts to maintain the peace, in this world might is right. It was the same in his first life. There were powers that had through technological advancement and military strength, and the lack of opposition from almost equally powerful forces subjugated countries to their agenda. Power, he thinks, is what makes people go to war. The defence of what once could call rights and law, justice even, is only meaningful to the powerful if there is an equal force in opposition. If there is not, the powerful will do as they please.

Propaganda does the rest.

What has always interested him is that the Hidden Villages are connected to the monarchies of their respective territories. But in reality, ninja live in a different plane of existence. Their power could be so absolute as to abolish the monarchies and nobility's claims to tax and resources. But they do not. He thinks it is in part because it would take time and resources to do that another Hidden Village might take advantage of, to encroach upon those newly freed territories.

On the other hand, a large part is because if ninja did take over the ruling, there would be less money flowing in to assassinate this noble, get rid of that merchant and so on and so forth. No matter that that money would be in the ninja's hands in the first place, territories have to be maintained, cultivated, and ninja forces would be only good for defence or mundane D Ranks. Salaries for ninja to do the maintenance and keep the peace would ensure that monetary resources were more evenly distributed – among ninja. This would potentially lead to riots, if one didn't carefully control population. So then, ninja would have to get involved in civilian education. And they wouldn't necessarily get paid for it better than a normal infiltration mission might cost. Now, they can infiltrate courts, play around with civilian politics while pretending to work to the Daimyo's advantage. Civilians might get uppity if ninja openly ruled.

Shadow government is really rather convenient.

He thinks sometimes that that's why Kage are called Shadow.

It's almost funny, when he looks at his mission. He's to go and investigate a noble's tremulous hold on the population near Hot Water's border. And if that noble has insufficient means of subjugating the rebels who won't pay their taxes for whatever reason – probably poverty – then Sakurai should assist. And if possible, find a replacement for the highest ranking noble.

Yeah. This is why he prefers ANBU. None of that population control stuff. None of that diplomacy, which really is making clear without saying it that if the civilians don't get their act together, the ninja will do it for them, by force of course. Fearmongering.

That's his mission. Putting the fear of ninja in these people's hearts when they already have it in their minds. But it is the heart that counts when you decide to rebel. He will probably have to make an example of someone. The rebellion is still small enough for that. There is no need to elevate the upper ranks of the movement into better economic and social standing to take the driving force from their efforts.

He will make an example of one or two well-known individuals. 'Do you remember Hiroshi? He was executed for (insert 'crime' here), you better watch out.'

Yeah.

He hates his profession sometimes. But he's not… well. He thinks maybe he can fulfil his mission and not make the rebels suffer too much. Of course, he's not going alone, Team Ten is accompanying him. Which means the Yamanaka and the Nara will have an eye on him. And Sarutobi Asuma… well. They don't really know each other, he supposes. Maybe they'll get along. Maybe they'll like him and turn a bit of a blind eye. But it isn't a kind heart that Konoha fosters in young ninja, it's a heart that beats for Konoha, their comrades, the Will of Fire. Rebels aren't Konoha. Rebels are the enemy.

As much as civilians can be the enemy anyway.

He thinks about why the Hokage assigned them under his leadership for this. The Nara is a competent chunin, Sarutobi could handle things with him on their own. And no mission is assigned people it doesn't need, unless there's insufficient intel and a high probability of combat. So. He packs his gear for a fight. There are probably enemy ninja involved.

Sakurai sighs. Just what he wants. But then, he figures this is another test of his abilities to perform as a normal jounin, with the backup necessary to catch his mistakes.

He could refuse. He can do that now, after all. Make himself into a combat specialist only. But that… that would mean that he'd be more out of the loop. He'd probably be pulled from the Commander's office in his time in the village and made to run missions nonstop since war is on their doorstep.

This is clean-up before it gets heated. He doesn't really mind that. He likes knowing what's going on. He's always liked it. That's why he pays so much attention, why he knows who's with who. Who's manoeuvring to place themselves as the next Jounin Commander. He likes watching them try to figure out why he's in that office almost every day he's in the village. He's certainly not taking over once the Nara decides he wants to retire. He likes knowing what's going on but he likes having a life outside of work and family more.

Regarding the mission, aside from the careful manoeuvring necessary to weed out the enemy nin, Sakurai thinks it could be a nice little holiday kind of thing. There are some nice hot springs where they're going. There's always time for downtime on this kind of mission. Well, there was when he did that sort of thing as a genin. Perhaps it will be different as the team leader.

He hopes not.

Besides, he can delegate. His team is probably quite competent. Good in a fight, too, if Sakura's opinion can be trusted. It can, even if they're friends. She's known how to assess the threat level of her comrades since he taught her in her last semester of the academy.

He's also curious to see how he'll fit in their team dynamic. The younger members have known each other since childhood. Sarutobi was – is – their jounin sensei.

Well. There's nothing for it. They move out tonight, so he leaves a note on his window and front door to let the kids and friends know he'll be gone for a few weeks.

Then he goes to shop for a few of the more palatable rations from the Akimichi store he frequents. The standard stuff is a bit bland for his tastes, and while he has some pre-cooked meals in storage seals, rations are always a good choice when you don't know for how long you'll be gone. He's not sure he wants to go undercover as a civilian either. Maybe he'll make one or two of the others do that.

He'll be sure to consult them, though. If there's no need, he sees no reason to force them.

He checks the time. Half an hour to go before they depart. He decides to stop by the tobacco shop he likes. He's running low on the kind that he can smoke on missions – no scent left behind, which makes it a little odd, but the taste doesn't suffer somehow. He's never investigated how, he's sure he doesn't want to know. Some of the chakra modifiers for plants and poisons can be a bit weird. Then again, it would be interesting. Perhaps he can ask the Yamanaka about it, if she's one of those who are into poisons and such.

The old, retired Yamanaka nin manning the counter is chatting with his clan head when Sakurai enters. Both glance at him, return his nod, and go back to their conversation about one of the greenhouses. Some of the plants seem to be suffering and the clan head is here for a consult.

Sakurai goes to pick out his preferred brand of scentless tobacco, takes a look at the poisoned tobacco selection to see if there is anything new. Not this time, and it's been a while since he was sent on an assassination mission that had to look like an accident – illness. So he picks out his money and goes to pay, intending on not interrupting the two men. He doesn't have time for a chat if he wants to stop by training ground three to tell Sakura that he'll be gone.

"Haruno-kun," Yamanaka Inoichi greets, pausing in his suggestion for the other Yamanaka to come by the next day to take a look, "Heading out?"

"Yamanaka-san, Yamanaka-san," Sakurai smiles, "Yes. I believe I'm assigned to your daughter's team this time."

"I told you not to add the san, Haruno-kun," the clan head reprimands, but Sakurai doesn't want to build up a rapport with the clan of mind readers and interrogators. They're very observant and he would rather they (rightly) think they discomfort him than have them around him more often. "To Hot Water's border, right? That'll be a nice journey."

Meanwhile, the shop owner has taken the money from Sakurai, given him a nod and gone to retrieve his diary.

"It wouldn't be appropriate, Yamanaka-san," Sakurai says. He's been careful to never go below san for any clan head, and none of them have been as persistent in offering him more friendly means of address. Not even Inuzuka Tsume who is as informal as anyone in that clan. But Sakurai, who only smokes the scent blocked tobacco on missions, has never had many dealings with that clan. "If the mission allows, we might get some downtime to enjoy a hot spring, too."

The clan head sighs at him, as though Sakurai's politeness were a great sadness, but doesn't press the issue. He never does more than once per conversation. And he never does it in front of the Jounin Commander. "Ino would like that. I hope it all goes well, then."

"It will. I'll see you when I get back, then," Sakurai says easily, noting how the man's face shifts into surprise for a moment at his surety. He's never been in charge of Sakurai's psychological evaluations, but he has had access to his philosophical and political writings. There's a lot of scepticism in there, a lot of introspection and sardonic self-mockery when it comes to morality. So he understands that this confidence might be surprising. He's never questioned his skill as a ninja, though. Only his role as one.

"Yes, see you in command."

And with that, Sakurai leaves and shunshins to training ground three once he's outside. Yamanaka always manage to make him overanalyse his and their interactions. He hopes Yamanaka Ino will be more focussed on something else. He doubts it, though.

Sakura is demolishing Sai in taijutsu when he arrives. No chakra strength, and no painting for this spar, it looks like. Sai is getting better, being with this team. Neither Yamato nor Hatake are anywhere to be seen, and Naruto appears to be practising some wind jutsu.

He watches them for a bit, before pulsing his chakra gently to alert them of his presence as he drops off of the tree branch he perched in. Perhaps, when he gets back, he'll drill them on detecting cloaked presences if he has the time. He's very good at hiding, but he knows Hatake would have caught the distortion his arrival brought. He tends not to bother cloaking that in the village. Not since Root was slaughtered.

Sakura and Sai pause, but Naruto appears very focused still.

"Sakurai-nii," Sakura comes over to speak with him, taking in his mission gear. "How long will you be gone?"

"A few weeks. I'll be on the border to Hot Water with Team Ten. Can you let Dad know I'm gone?"

"Yeah, I'll tell your old sack of potatoes that you're gone," she says teasingly, only ever halfway fond of her mother's ex-husband. "Man, Ino-Pig gets to go on a mission with you before me?"

"There'll be enough combat missions to go around soon enough, Sakura. I'm sure if I ask nicely, the Commander won't mind us going on one together."

It makes her smile. He likes making her smile. They hug briefly, then Sakurai waves to Sai, who waves back in that overdone, jerky way he has. That brat's taken being obnoxious and made it into a lifestyle. Sakurai's proud. "Tell Naruto to brush up on his spatial awareness before I get back."

"Sure thing," Sakura promises, eyes sparkling. She knows Sakurai likes to prank Naruto when he thinks he should do better with some of his training.

And then it's time for him to meet Team Ten at the gate. Team Ten is already waiting for him when he gets there. He's right on time, so they stop chatting with the gate chunin when he arrives with his shunshin. They're better at noting the distortion than Team Seven is, but that might be because Sarutobi turned towards him immediately when he was part of the conversation.

"Evening," he greets, "I'm Team Leader Haruno Sakurai, let's get along, eh?"

"We know who you are," the Yamanaka says, "And now that we're on a mission you can't ignore me any longer, Haruno-san!"

"Ah. How unfortunate," he comments, and earns a smile from Sarutobi. The younger men just watch curiously. They must be used to her. Akimichi must also be reconciling his calm demeanour with their last encounter. Nara just watches, looking half-asleep on his feet. He even has dark shadows under his eyes.

"You're really rude, you know that?" Yamanaka points out, seeming upset. He was younger than her once and used that tactic to wheedle lower prices at the market. It started not working too well when he grew taller. They must all be about fifteen or sixteen.

"I suppose I do," he agrees and waves cheerfully at the gate guards as they pass through. Kotetsu and Izumo are loose acquaintances, but even if they gossip every once in a while, he's recently not bothered much. Children did give him something else to do on weeknights. They give him a wave each. From a distance, he doesn't seem all that changed, he knows.

But his privacy's been violated. His thoughts have been aired to strangers. He's coaxed children with numbers for names to become children with wants and stubborn little tantrums.

He's not tired, per se. He's just waiting to feel like he's back to where he felt like life made sense.

.

He knows the route to Hot Water's border quite well and takes to the treetops easily, setting a lazy pace. He'll see how much stamina they have tonight before they make camp when they get too tired. He's worked with some Nara before, and they often have less than average physical stats. They're good to have on a team, though. Clever and quick when needed. And that clan technique is nothing to scoff at if they have the chakra reserves to hold it for a bit.

Surprisingly enough, the Yamanaka decides to leave it at that for now. Sakurai signs for the Nara to take point about an hour into their journey for a private signed conversation with Sarutobi about his team's capabilities. He finds out that they're all about on the same level genjutsu-wise, which is… not much to speak of; infiltration is good for Yamanaka and Nara; Akimichi has high-chunin level taijutsu, good reserves, but isn't so good at independent strategizing; Yamanaka has some expertise with poison, her clan jutsu of course and information gathering without violence is her forte; Nara has a knack for strategy like the Commander, good chakra reserves for the clan jutsu, but relatively poor physical stats. Sarutobi is good with wind jutsu blades, katon and quite versatile in close and mid-range combat. Otherwise he's their sensei and must have been responsible for honing their individual talents. They're all good for memorisation and no one will have trouble posing as a civilian for a time.

That's good, for what Sakurai wants from them.

Around sunrise, Nara requests a break and because they have an Akimichi on the team, Sakurai decides on an hour to get some good cooking done since he spots a few animal tracks in the dense undergrowth.

"Someone get a fire going, I'll be right back," he says, not caring who does what, they've been on enough missions together to sort themselves out and he doesn't like micro-managing everything. He hopes to set the tone for the mission with this. Sort it out yourselves.

He finds the rabbit nest quickly enough, takes three with quick kills and brings them back to the campsite. Akimichi helps him skin the carcasses and remove the entrails while the others keep an eye out and rest. Sakurai is about to retrieve some herbs from his pack when Akimichi stops him, "Allow me, Haruno-san."

"Alright. Thanks, Akimichi-san," he says and sits back to watch the young man cook.

"So, Haruno-san," Yamanaka begins, "Why do you think you were put on this mission with us? Doesn't seem like the type of thing you usually do."

Sakurai shrugs and packs his pipe with the last of his scentless tobacco. "I'm a jounin now. Gotta have a bit of a repertoire if I'm not too heavily specialised. So let's call it a learning experience."

"Makes sense, I guess. Hey, did you get that from old man Juuichi? He's cultivating a new type of that scentless stuff, should be ready in a few months," she chats easily, almost mindlessly. But she's showing him how observant she is as well. A good memory for small details, too, which can only be good for her place on an information gathering team.

"His shop has some of the better selections," Sakurai offers and lights the pipe.

"He does," Sarutobi agrees, "But if you want good cigarettes, I recommend checking out the store by the old jounin barracks."

"Ah? I'll stop by there sometime, then, thanks," Sakurai says and doesn't mention that that place tends to overcharge a bit, when it comes to the more popular brands. He prefers the civilian corner shop near his mother's house for cigarettes. "Say, Yamanaka-san, you wouldn't happen to know how the scentless tobacco keeps its taste without the smell?"

And she jumps on the topic, eager to explain the chakra modifications and that in some Inuzuka, they can cause a sneeze attack. She regales them with an amusing tale of one of her uncle's old teammates who couldn't stop sneezing for hours. The method of cultivating them remains secret.

And then the rabbit is done, crispy, lightly salted and very tasty.

Sakurai compliments the cook who smiles, pleased. The Nara, having to be shaken awake by his teammate also thanks his friend for the meal. Then he asks Sakurai about his plans for the mission.

"We don't have much intel beyond a few names and a little information on Fujiouka. It's likely that there are enemy shinobi helping to stir up the trouble and there has been a high concentration of bandits in the area in the past. From what I remember, the region isn't too rich on crops, only some of the farmers grow potatoes like in Hot Water, so most of their income is tourism for the hot springs and a few of the still-operating mines. We'll pass by the mining towns on our way there. In the last war we had some minor battles with Kumo nin near Raishu because they tried to retaliate for our successful moves on Frost's smaller iron mines. They still have those supply-agreements. I figure it might be them, or since it now exists, Sound. So what I want is to gather some information while one of us puts some pressure on the noble. I also want to track down the nin and rebellion leaders. I'm open to suggestions from you."

Nara hesitates, then sighs softly. "I figure Asuma-sensei should take on the noble, Ino and Chouji should gather intel and you and I should track down the nin. We'll find them in a good position to influence the rebellion leaders."

"Good. I figure you can all operate independently of my direction, but I want team meetings every day. Times will be flexible, so I want you to know that my summons are peacocks, and if you see one you should come find me. They're relatively common in the area, so be sure to register the chakra trace. I don't care if you send a shadow clone for an info dump, so long as you can assimilate the memories. If you want to alert us to some imminent danger, then you'll either have to track me down or signal a flare. I won't be leaving a shadow clone anywhere until I can assess the threat level we're facing. If we keep up the pace, we should arrive in three days. We're not in a hurry. And when we're there, if it all goes smoothly, I don't mind if you take some time to relax."

"I can't do the shadow clone," Yamanaka pipes up, "But I can establish a two-way mind link with Shika and Chouji within my range of sight, and keep it up for a few hours. Only half an hour in stressful situations like a fight, though. How do you know of those Kumo connections? There was nothing in the archives when I had a quick look this afternoon before we left."

"Those might be classified records, Ino," Sarutobi explains. "We have some non-aggression treaties with Frost, so it's not something you should spread outside of mission requirements."

Sakurai knows because he'd been part of some of those ANBU operations. That was a mission where his sealing ability really got a workout. And then his quickest shunshin. Frost had some quick guards stationed there, but none of them could really keep up with ANBU. The nin there aren't really required for the grand scale destruction that the major Hidden Villages can deal, so their average nin is a bit less dangerous than Konoha's forces. Average doesn't mean much, though, if you encounter the ones that are above the cut. Frost still has some relations with Kumo, but Sakurai suspects they'll remain more neutral in this next war if they can. He's also suspected for some time that Frost trains some of their civilians to be infiltrators. Konoha does that with prostitutes sometimes.

"Well, about that mind link," Sakurai begins, "Can you keep up a passive connection that you could use for emergencies? Or is it only active?"

"I could, but only for a day or so before my chakra runs low."

"Right. Then I want you to use it only for the first day until check-in," he decides. That's the most usual time for enemy nin to engage or take off. "I also want you to periodically check for genjutsu if you can keep your signatures hidden doing that. Sound has some pretty tricky ones using everyday noises. The stuff they present in the chunin exams is just for show."

"What kinds of everyday noises?" Yamanaka presses.

"Anything relatively rhythmic. Some can kick off a dog's bark and use that if they've heard the dog before. I've seen it done with carpenters fixing a roof, or the children singing one of their repetitive songs. Someone especially skilled can use leaves rustling or running water, even if it's only a trickle. That's only a few more obvious examples, though. So check periodically, if you can."

"I don't know if I can," Akimichi volunteers. "I'd like to check before."

Sakurai glances at Sarutobi who nods in response. "Right. I'll put a mild one on you when we make the next leg of the journey. Haruno-san can judge whether you can hide your signature adequately. You too, Ino, Shikamaru."

The team nods.

"Okay. Let's move on," Sakurai orders.

It's dusk when they next stop and make camp for the night. It's warm enough for no fire, but they indulge in another hot meal, courtesy of Akimichi. With a bit of practise they all get the disruption without revealing themselves down to a level where if Sakurai weren't keeping a feel out, they'd be unnoticed. He's one of the better sensors in ANBU, so he figures that's fine. He was. Was one of the better sensors in ANBU.

Yamanaka chats a bit about how Yuuhi Kurenai, the genjutsu mistress and Sarutobi's not-so-secret girlfriend, taught her a few interesting genjutsu. "Have you ever met Kurenai-sensei, Haruno-san?"

"Maybe once or twice," Sakurai offers, "She likes the tea at Zashi's, if I remember correctly."

"She does," Sarutobi affirms, a surprised undertone in his voice. "Did you meet her there?"

Not-quite jealous boyfriend, but wanting to know if Sakurai and her ever got a bit closer. They didn't. Sakurai likes his sexual partners to be either civilian and more or less happily married or ANBU. No need for complications. "Joined her and a mutual acquaintance there once a few years ago. We don't really run in the same circles, so that was one of the few times I ever saw her. I heard her genjutsu is good enough to fool some of the older generation."

Potential situation diffused – you never know with ninja, if they're jealous or not, but he's seen it turn into a problem with a few genin. This is a jounin, but adults can be children, too.

"It is," Nara judges, "Dad said she got Shimura Otae once, in a spar for the jounin exams."

Shimura Otae was a tricky ninja. She was a stealth expert and uniquely suited to sabotage. Sakurai ran a mission with her once when he was sixteen. She showed him a neat trick for creating noise away from his position to throw off a listening guard if they were already suspicious. She died just a few months ago, gathering intel on Ame. Sakurai only knows that because Groundhog, her partner, had a few frustrations to vent and came to Sakurai with them. It really is true what they say about pillow-talk. Not even ninja are safe from the effects that sex with a trusted person has on the lock on your tongue. Nothing really classified got to Sakurai, but he got the gist of it. Ame was near-impenetrable. Groundhog only got out by the skin of his teeth. He's still a bit stiff in the leg and doing light-duty guard missions at the moment. Maybe he'll retire to the normal forces as a chunin. He doesn't want a new ANBU partner.

"Shimura? Wasn't that the councilman's clan?" Yamanaka questions.

"Yes," Sarutobi answers, giving Sakurai a sidelong glance that tells him his frown at her name was noted, "He was her uncle, though."

"I haven't heard much about Shimura Otae," Yamanaka says, "But I think she's a tester for the jounin exams quite regularly."

There are a few moments of silence before Yamanaka looks at Sakurai, "Haruno-san, do you know her?"

"I did. She didn't make it back from a mission a few months ago," he offers, since there's no need to gossip about dead people.

"Oh. Were you close?"

"No. She was a very skilled kunoichi," he says and figures that's that.

It's not, apparently. "Do you think she knew about Root?" the question is asked with a lowered voice, a bit like Yamanaka expects someone to scold her for asking it. She's young enough to get away with that sort of tactic, he supposes. He's not about to offer any of his speculations, though.

Shimura Otae wasn't the kind of ninja to live an uninformed life. He saw her a few times in ANBU HQ with the Root-masked nin. So yes, she knew. She was involved. Groundhog also complained about those creeps to Sakurai once a few years ago. That man had a bit too loose a tongue, he reflects, but what he can do with it more than makes up for that. Besides, Sakurai doesn't share personal stuff with him. Groundhog has never seen a problem with that. He already knows a lot because he's been to Sakurai's apartment.

He just looks at Yamanaka and knows none of his thoughts are showing. She waits, hopeful. He huffs a laugh at her and begins to pack his pipe.

"Aw, can't you tell me?" she wheedles. "I'll even stop bothering you about your rudeness."

"What, no offer to stop being nosy?" he smiles at her to soften that blow, keep it friendly. They're on a team for now. No need to put her off too thoroughly. But she needs to do better than that if she wants that kind of information from him, even on a dead woman.

She crosses her arms under her bust and pouts. It's not as sexy as she thinks. Well, it might be if his type was young and naïve. "You really are very rude."

"Who do you think taught Sai his social graces?" he asks, opening another avenue for her.

She gapes at him a bit. "That's- why would you-?"

Perhaps that was too much of a curveball. He lights the pipe. "Because he's hilarious."

"Troublesome," mutters Nara. Sakurai huffs another laugh, meeting sharp brown eyes, through the smoke he releases.

"I'll take first watch," he finally says when the Nara closes his eyes with a yawn.

"Second," Akimichi volunteers. That's the least popular time.

"Third," claims Yamanaka. That's that. Tomorrow night, Sarutobi and Nara get first and second, Sakurai decides and he'll take third. He doesn't sleep much at the moment. The upcoming war is making him a bit restless.

.

 _Alle Berufung auf tradierte Wertordnungen, Normen, Institutionen kann nicht aus der Welt schaffen, daß eine offensichtlich kaum eindämmbare Aggressionsbereitschaft die Menschheit beherrscht und daß jeder, der sie durch kräftige Anstachelung der Projektionsneigung auf Sündenböcke zu fixieren versteht, großer Macht über die Menschen sicher sein kann._ _S.107_

 _No oaths to follow traditional orders of worth, norms, institutions can remove the obviously barely containable readiness for aggression that governs humanity and they cannot remove the surety that those who understand how to fixate the projection aptitude on scapegoats by method of thorough goading have great power over humans._

.

The night is quiet, and they have two more days to go.

They keep up the pace well, so he leaves it as it is. There's no need to tire them out before they arrive there.

On a hunch on the second day, Sakurai directs them to the road for a few hours, still in the treetops, but they find signs of bandits. He thinks a little clean-up is in order. Then he can gauge their teamwork against a weaker but numerous enemy. He wouldn't usually, but before a war, it's best to get rid of some of the more destabilising factors for the roads. And by doing this he's not likely to deprive the village of income that a mission request would generate. This far from Konoha, it's more likely that civilians would turn to their noble lord for help.

He has them track the bandits while he and Sarutobi assess. Nara is the best sensor, Yamanaka has an eye for detail, and Akimichi can enhance his sense of smell quite well. They find them within minutes. Bandits are… they do what they do to survive, but Sakurai figures there are better ways to do that than robbery and murder. Ninja don't do much else, so he's not too high and mighty about it, but in a world where not having chakra often means that you have the chance at a peaceful existence…

Anyway. He doesn't really care about them, and these particular ones appear to have no problem keeping two women alive to do with them as they please. They're keeping them in a cage, even. That probably used to house some kind of livestock.

He doesn't begrudge Yamanaka her ruthlessness as she takes them out. He briefly considers killing the women, too, but this isn't that kind of mission. He questions them instead.

They're from Oshuraki, which is on the way to Raishu, where they're going to meet Fujiouka. Or Sarutobi is. They still have family there, respectively. They were on their way to Soukai, delivering a shipment of potatoes and livestock. Usually the women would have stayed behind, but they wanted to meet friends. Sakurai estimates that they'll probably never travel without ninja escorts again.

Thankfully, the bandits have some horses, so they agree to escort the women to Oshuraki, stay the night and move on to Raishu. Sakurai will use the chance to figure out how the mine's doing there. If all is as it was, or if there might be some discrepancies in the records or shipments.

"I have some medical training," Sakurai offers lowly, when the others are out of earshot. "But I understand if my being a man makes you uncomfortable."

The women share a look full of uncertainty. "It would make getting on a horse less painful," he says, and remains in his position on one knee, as though receiving orders from his Hokage, though far more relaxed.

One of them reaches out for the other's hand. "If- if the woman watches."

He nods. "Yamanaka-san," he calls softly and she joins them. "I'll be healing these two for the journey. They'd like you to observe. Perhaps you can assist me."

Her face is resolute as she nods. "Of course. What do you need?"

"I'll create a wall for some privacy. I need some water, boiled and clean cloth. Have you seen any during clean-up?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Right," Sakurai says and unseals his medical supplies before using doton jutsu to raise that privacy wall, a half circle, not very high. Then he fills the metal basin of his med-kit with water from the air with a quick suiton jutsu. Finally, he heats it with some katon, which is the only one he needs handseals for.

The women watch with fascination. Yamanaka looks impressed. "You mastered three elements, Haruno-san?"

"I didn't master them. But this I can do," Sakurai admits. He's no ninjutsu expert. But he can pass for a decent chunin in their own affinity with Suiton and Katon. Doton, that's his affinity, and he can do most jutsu he's practised without handseals. When it comes to lightning or wind… maybe genin level. And lightning gives him a lot of trouble when he does practise it. He hasn't in a long while, though. Perhaps he should see to it that his skills remain at the level they're at now before the fighting really starts.

There are no more comments on his ability when they set to cleaning the women's wounds and tears in their genital areas. They cry, but silently, holding each other's hands tightly. He doesn't do much, but he carefully heals what he can, and minimises the risks of infection where he can't because some of his anatomical knowledge only extents so far for these parts of the anatomy. Healing requires some detailed knowledge of the cellular makeup. He doesn't have it for everything. Mostly, he can heal stab wounds and mend some organ tissue until a proper med-nin can take a look.

Once that's done, and the other men on the team have burned the corpses, they take the four horses, some of the supplies and set off, this time on the road.

Yamanaka and Nara travel with the women on horseback, while Sarutobi and Akimichi keep pace on foot. Sakurai elects to scout ahead because he doesn't like the looks of gratitude and awkward conversation most people attempt after a bit of a show of kindness.

The bandits were only ten men – scrappy, really. That they could take out a small merchant's delivery is believable. But that they had been able to survive in these parts on a relatively frequented route is concerning. Fujiouka should have done something about them months ago. Then again, they must have moved around a lot. Sometimes they know to cover their tracks well – well enough for civilians. But these ones didn't. Sakurai wants to keep an ear out for similar stories as this one. If there are enough, then Fujiouka has some serious explaining to do. It might also be that Frost really has sent civilian infiltrators to the mining towns.

That might make it harder to quieten the rebels. Vigilantism doesn't happen often, but if the citizens feel they have to take their protection into their own hands, then paying taxes becomes much less attractive than it already is.

He tries to remember if there's any other valuable resources in the area that would make long-term sabotage lucrative. Hot springs, tourism. Mines, tools and weapons manufacture. There's only one larger forge in the area, in Raishu.

The latter perhaps. He wants some of the mining reports when they get to Raishu. He's definitely stopping by a tavern in Oshuraki to hear out the workers and maybe the market for merchant gossip in the morning.

It's all peaceful where he scouts, he even doubles back in a larger circle to see about more bandit tracks. Perhaps an anomaly. But those… well. They don't tend to happen to him. Then again, this is his first real jounin mission. He was only ever ANBU escort as a genin for this sort of thing, and he did most of the fighting then. Not the thinking. And when he was Captain, that usually meant clear targets, in and out, leaving behind a bloodbath – or just a puddle with the corpse sealed away.

The civilian pace gives them the option of halting for the night, or pushing on for another two hours to reach Oshuraki. He decides to let the women make the decision.

"Onwards," the dark haired one says. "I want to get home."

The other nods. And so they don't make camp, but Sakurai does give out some of his snack bars that he keeps on hand for missions. Akimichi has his own high-calorie ones, though.

They escort the women home, each left with two horses.

Then they turn in at an inn for the night. Two rooms, one for the jounin, the other for the younger members. They all get dinner before calling it a night.

Sakurai heads out to find a good tavern.

.

[Shikamaru POV]

"He knows some medical ninjutsu," Ino tells them, tone admiring, "That means really good chakra control. So it runs in the family, then. And he's got decent reserves, too. He can do three different elemental jutsu, two of them without handseals. And he was really good with the women when he healed them. Super professional and gentle."

He sighs. He hopes she's not getting a crush. That'd be troublesome. He remembers the fangirl phase all too well. He sets some traps while she chatters on and gets ready for bed. Chouji snacks a bit more, since dinner was alright, but not too filling.

He knows part of Team Ten's mission parameters are to observe how well Haruno can lead a team in a non-combat environment that focuses more on information gathering than the high stakes tracking and assassination that Haruno's resume consists of. Well. His classified one, anyway. And even that doesn't cover all of it. ANBU often only has verbal reports. Haruno's officially gone on quite a few out-of-village C Ranks as a courier or escort and the like. He got his chunin promotion on one of them after taking down a missing nin and his apprentice. Completely drunk, was what his team leader's report stated. He was still recovering from some injury, too. Otherwise he'd not have been on that mission.

So Shikamaru knows all that, and this is technically Ino updating them on her information, so he doesn't say anything, but he can hope that she won't get her hopes up. This is a man almost one and a half decades their senior, around Asuma-sensei's age with twice the combat experience.

Trauma probably doesn't even begin to cover what lays behind that calm, friendly façade. He suspects what they witnessed on the return journey from the Danzou mission was slightly more genuine – the running commentary provided as a distraction from their and his wounds. But it had been at a low enough volume that it had still been easy to keep an ear out for potential enemies. Shikamaru doesn't really want to know too much more, though. That man is a puzzle he can leave alone, if only because the man's so obviously slightly crazy. And if it's that obvious, then he must be bonkers.

The man can pretend normal rather well, though. That's a thought he'll put in his report.

He'd been slightly surprised at the decision to track down the bandits, but he can see the reasoning.

And he doesn't mind escorting two hurt women home. He never likes clean-up of the corpses after, but that's part of the job.

But the bandit presence is concerning if it's been going on for as long as the women claim it has, in other areas. Well. He's sure Haruno's concerned. And if he doesn't bring it up, Shikamaru will.

Part of their observation is how well he considers outside factors to their mission. Judging by how well Haruno remembered Kurenai-sensei's teahouse preference from one meeting, Shikamaru figures there won't be much for him to add to, on this mission. Which is a nice feeling, really.

And with that thought, Shikamaru drifts off.

.

They meet Asuma-sensei in the jounin's room and hour after daybreak. "Morning," he greets, looking well-rested.

"Morning, Asuma-sensei," Ino says, "Where's our team leader?"

"Haruno's gone to the market, he wanted some gossip on bandit activity from the merchants."

Ah. Shikamaru smiles slightly. He won't have to bring that up, then.

"He also went to the tavern last night, to hear about some of the mines. Nothing suspicious recently, but he definitely wants me to check the records in Raishu. He's got some suspicions about Frost having sent in civilian infiltrators."

Asuma notes Shikamaru's interest. "He said he heard a colleague mention that sort of thing about Frost. Konoha does it, too, so it makes sense."

"Konoha has civilian infiltrators?" Chouji asks, surprised. Shikamaru is, too, but it makes sense. Jiraya has an extensive network. Some of that has to be civilians. Konoha has large numbers of ninja, but most of them are stationed in the village. Intel has to come from some sources that are permanent plants. It seems he has a bit more to pay attention to.

Ino seems even more intent on finding out more than they're required on this mission about Haruno.

"Yes. Every village does," Asuma says. "But only some of them are trained to recognise ninja under henge and that sort of thing. If Haruno's concerned, then Frost probably has a more extensive curriculum for their infiltrators."

"Troublesome."

"Indeed," Haruno suddenly says from behind them. He must have shunshined in, but even Asuma seemed surprised for a second. That's impressive stealth. Shikamaru can't feel a trace of chakra out of place. His entrance wasn't this smooth in Konoha. So, basically, they've not seen the true extent of his abilities yet. Which makes sense. This isn't a high combat mission. Team Ten's missions rarely are.

"There's been some higher concentration of bandit activity targeting food supply," Haruno continues, "Nothing too drastic, but the specificity of the targets does concern me. Suggests intel from inside the towns. But bandit groups of this calibre don't usually have that level of organisation, so when we arrive in Raishu, I want none of us seen or heard of, except for Sarutobi-san. The rest of us will keep out of sight or disguise ourselves well enough to pass long-term infiltration muster."

Chouji looks a bit confused. Right. They've never had to discuss henges of that detail. Shikamaru suppresses a sigh. And here he was, thinking with this kind of team leader there'd be fewer concerns for Shikamaru. He supposes there are, but maybe it's about how the man assumes they have skills that they haven't had to learn yet. The man has likely interacted with very competent mission partners before and his standards might be different.

"We should decide on disguises before getting there, then," Shikamaru says, "to recognise each other more easily."

Haruno's eyes meet his and there's a slight furrow between his brows. He can probably pick them out of a crowd easily. So maybe he hasn't considered that they can't do the same. Or maybe he assumed they'd have that sort of disguise ready before leaving on this kind of mission. The latter seems more likely for an observant man like Haruno.

"Alright. Do you need more time to decide on something adequate or shall we do that now?" their team leader asks them, no judgement in his voice or posture. Shikamaru gets the feeling that this mission is as much one for them to practise gathering information on a very guarded man as it is a means for him to gauge the average genin and chunin for skill levels.

"Now's fine," Ino says and begins to chatter to Chouji about how he'd look great with red hair and won't he try that sort of casual kimono with it?

Shikamaru settles on changing the structure of his hair, but not the colour or style. He'll go with unobtrusive casual clothes and figures that should be enough.

Asuma-sensei does nothing because he's going as himself. He probably has a few disguises down if they become necessary, though.

Haruno obviously changes his hair colour to dark brown, his eyes, too and layers on a bit of a more round facial structure that also hides his scar. He looks a bit like a tourist from the northern part of Fire Country with loose trousers and a tight button-up shirt that shows off a small muffin top and rounder shoulders than his real body has. He looks nothing like himself. And nothing like a ninja, with his face in a guileless expression of stupid, unjustified confidence.

He looks at Shikamaru then, and even his voice is different when he speaks, "Give your eyes a rounder shape, Nara-san," he suggests, smiling as though he were giving grandiose advice. Shikamaru has a feeling that if he were forced to interact with this man's disguise all of the time, he'd come to hate the man easily. He does as told, though. Looking in the mirror for a moment, he realises that even when scrutinising something closely now, he only looks curious. That was good advice.

Ino and Chouji decide to be redheaded siblings with a bit of money, but not too much. Enough that strolling down the market will be a profitable sort of endeavour while merchants engage in chitchat to keep them there and interested in the wares.

Haruno suggests no changes to their henge and lets his fade away back to his normal pink-and-intimidating-facial-scar ensemble. Shikamaru watches his eyes turn back to their normal, sharper squint. He looks tired still, hasn't been getting too much good sleep recently. Even the naps only help a bit. He knows it's because his father has been training him more thoroughly recently, what with the war approaching.

When Shikamaru had gotten the orders to move out, he'd been having dinner with his parents. He'd asked his father for some basic tips about Haruno as a team leader. 'Clever. Looks out for his teammates. Knows a lot about foreign village's tactics. Doesn't like people trying to wheedle information from him too much.'

He knew that last one from Ino's previous attempts to befriend Sakura's elder brother when they visited their fathers at the office. But it's not that the man dislikes her attempts, Shikamaru thinks, it's that he thinks she's doing it poorly.

That would be a funny observation to make, but in the end, that only speaks to the kinds of mind-games he must be used to to think Ino's tactics are inadequate. Considering what their team's specialty is, perhaps he's right. Maybe. It's always been good enough on previous missions. But good enough is only good enough for so long. This mission is not only practise for him to assess their competency, it's also practise for them dealing with very shrewd opponents. This man is a comrade, so he will forgive things that the enemy won't. He will also be of no help because he's not their teacher.

Shikamaru glances at Asuma. There was nothing in his mission scroll to see if Asuma was to evaluate their progress, help them or whatever else. He wonders, what does the Hokage intend as Haruno's role in the war? A simple jounin? He doesn't think so, with him being in command. He doesn't think so, with him having been put in charge of the Root survivors.

Ah. And just minutes ago, Shikamaru didn't even want to know.

"Good. That's done," Haruno says, and there's something about his demeanour that remains grandiose. Shikamaru thinks it's the tone of voice and inflection, even though it's hardly any different from his normal speech pattern. Well. Normal since his retirement from ANBU. "I want you all to do your parts as soon as we arrive. Word will soon reach Raishu that ninja helped rescue two women from bandits, so we don't have that much time. If the ninja there aren't too powerful, then Nara-san and I will engage them alone."

Shikamaru thinks that that's probably an acceptable plan, for Haruno. He could take down Danzou on his own, took on multiple sharingan, even if they were implanted. Still…

"Have any of you," team leader asks almost carefully, "Interrogated enemy nin before? Sat in on questionings in T&I?"

Ino freezes. Chouji stops snacking. Asuma doesn't look surprised. Shikamaru thinks, for just a moment, that he should have seen this coming.

"No. This would be their first mission involving capture and interrogation, Haruno-san. All they have experience with is civilian-level information gathering," Asuma explains.

"Then, I want to know, do you wish to observe, participate or learn in the village?" Haruno appears normal, nothing more than a superior wanting to know if his subordinates wish to partake in a learning experience. Shikamaru looks at Asuma, then, and thinks that their teacher has perhaps kept them from this kind of thing purposefully. It's not their first mission like this… well. Without the rebellion and foreign nin involvement. Perhaps this was carefully chosen. Perhaps this was why they were individually summoned for their missions per scroll, no mission debriefing beforehand, the members chosen by the Hokage.

It seems more and more likely that this is a mission meant to prepare them for what they will do in the war.

As gently as possible. As protected as possible. With a team leader who leaves them choices. But only ones with delayed outcome. They will learn, here or in Konoha. Shikamaru thinks that for Ino, it would be both worse and better to do this in the village. Her father could help her. He would also have to observe her practising torture. She would have to observe him doing that.

Chouji looks like he doesn't really want to learn, ever. He's nice like that.

It's Shikamaru who Haruno looks at. He knows the others will probably follow his lead. They always do. No judgement, just waiting. Unbidden, he remembers what Sakura's face looked like after Team Seven returned from their first out-of-village mission with Sai. Heavy. Concerned for her teammates.

They're very different, the Haruno siblings. Where Sakura is straight-laced, Sakurai seems to follow the rules only when it suits him, especially when in company that cares for social graces. Finds their reactions funny. Where Sakura is kind hearted, soft, most of the time, her brother does not flinch. Where she would judge, he waits.

Shikamaru thinks that if they do this here, they will make some unpleasant self-discoveries. They will do it outside of the village, away from their social network and parents. Shikamaru always likes coming to terms with things on his own. Ino could be alright with that. Chouji… so long as Asuma keeps talking to him, maybe. They should all speak to a Yamanaka when they're back in the village.

"I'll observe. I'm not sure about participating, though," he decides.

"Same," Ino agrees, having waited for his answer.

"Alright," Chouji says, going along with them as he always does.

"I suppose I'll take the lead on that, then," Haruno accepts with a glance at Asuma. "If possible, we should be done getting that intel within two weeks at most. We'll use the base near the northern Raishu mining shafts. That means you can join us within minutes if you manage to get something out of Fujiouka that could be relevant to our interrogation methods."

"There's a base there?" Ino asks, "There was nothing about that in my scroll."

"The Hokage knows that I know of it," Haruno explains, so it would be a waste of paper and ink to put it in their scrolls. "It has the proper cells and quarters for our needs. It's not ANBU exclusive, so you can tell people the next time you come to the area."

"So we'll be staying the nights there?" she questions.

"Just Nara and I. You have civilian disguises to keep intact. Sarutobi-san will use the quarters provided for him."

And somehow, this mission, that looked so pleasantly simple beforehand, has turned into something more serious. Their first time capturing and interrogating, maybe torturing. The first mission where they will be split up at night, reconvening only once a day. Maybe more once they've captured the nin, but he thinks that will go faster than Ino and Chouji's part of the mission. He's not sure about Asuma.

If he's entirely honest with himself, he's not sure about staying with only Haruno for company himself.

But that's how it goes. At least, they're within quick response distance from the others.

.

[Sakurai POV]

Nara's apprehension is relatively disguised. Not nearly enough not to be noticeable, what with his normally sleepy mannerisms. But Sakurai thinks that that's to be expected.

He remembers the first time he had to extract information from a prisoner. That was… really rather gruesome and messy, but it had been about a teammate's whereabouts. The most important part of it is really that you have to keep in mind what you've confirmed beforehand. That any lie can still lead you where you want to go. And most importantly, it's about making the other believe that you really do have all the power. There is nothing they can do against you, and mercy is preferable to the punishment for giving false information.

This is why it is always good to finish within the first or the second week. After, starvation becomes an easy way out, and unless you keep an eye on a force-fed prisoner at all times, that's a bit detrimental to your finding out what you need to know.

The good thing is, most villages only really train jounin to resist interrogation for long. They have the most valuable information, so it has to be protected the best, but it's also the most attractive information. This is why, sometimes, Sakurai likes to capture the enemy without alerting them to their status as captured. Genjutsu is such a finicky thing, but he's perfected it for this sort of thing.

Then again, he's already decided not to do that this time. If this is to be a learning experience, he well make it one that can be used. Altering people's perception of time is easier within a dark cell with only one source of light, making the hours tick by more quickly, making the questions worse. No matter the rank, young people struggle more with that. The worst to trick are med-nin, though. Good chakra control, good knowledge of the body's common reactions to this sort of thing can break a genjutsu like that. Frost, like Kumo, doesn't have the best medical nin, not that many of them, either, so it's unlikely they'll encounter one here.

He will explain to them his methods, and have them assess who of the captured – if there is more than one – should undergo this treatment. He figures that's a learning experience.

He also thinks that, if possible, he would have Sarutobi-san leave behind a shadow clone and be physically present for his students. Sakurai only gives hugs to people he likes and trusts. Same with emotional support.

"How good is your sensing?" Sakurai asks Nara when they've assessed the most likely location of the rebel's meeting places.

"I can find Asuma-sensei when he makes us track him down. That's with him keeping his chakra cloaked, but only when I'm within range of my shadows. About twenty metres."

That's good, for a Nara. He must be talented with his clan jutsu. But he must be familiar with his teacher's signature by now.

.

They scour the perimeter, even as they wait. Sakurai's sure they've found the rebel meeting place, so it's a matter of time if enemy nin will pass by. And he's right. They don't know of Konoha's arrival yet, so the enemy nin, a chunin from Frost, shows up to a meeting, just as the civilians – seven of them, who must be the leaders – have gathered.

In case this is bait, Sakurai summons his most stealthy little peacock and has them tag each of them to follow later.

Sakurai and Nara don't get close enough to listen in, but they follow the nin once he leaves. It's a familiar pattern of evasion in case someone tries to track him, even as he erases any traces of his passing. Sakurai can sense him from seventy metres away, so it's a comfortable distance that they follow him at. The Frost nin stops at a relatively well-kept farmer's house. There are three more signatures, all cloaked. One better than the others. Probably the jounin leader of the operation, then.

If possible, he wants them all captured alive.

Sakurai decides on a seal-laid barrier around the place once they've established that these are the only nin around. They mark the location, then Nara and he make another perimeter check. Indeed, there is a fifth signature patrolling. Also jounin, Sakurai judges.

Best to take that one down on his own, then.

He signals for Nara to remain hidden, closes in with a shunshin so smooth he's knocked the man out before he even registers Sakurai's presence. That's good. Not a sensor, then. He applies the chakra suppression seals, ties him up, checks his mouth for poison capsules. Strips him of his weapons. Leaves him there behind a large rock, and a layer of genjutsu.

He re-joins Nara in the trees. "We'll have to be quick now. I'll layer a seal-barrier outside the house, so no one can escape and no one will enter once we're gone. How many can you capture in a shadow bind at once?"

"Three, if they're not too powerful."

"The jounin?"

"Probably a lot of effort with two others. Maybe a minute, all of them. Three, if it's only chunin."

"Then we take the jounin, two chunin, and I will take the last one down. Be ready to tie and search them."

They approach swiftly. Sakurai orders Nara to stay behind for two minutes while he lays the fuinjutsu barrier. He does it quickly, with prepared seals. The chakra signatures inside remain calm. That doesn't have to mean anything, but Sakurai figures that they're not sensors, or at least not very good ones.

He returns to Nara's position, notes the twitch to the young man's kunai pouch at his sudden shunshin with approval. Not quick enough, but with time he'll have it out before Sakurai even starts the technique. "I want you to stay outside, if you can. Capture three of them closest to you, make sure you have the jounin. At my signal."

Nara nods. They shunshin closer, Nara forms the handseal, Sakurai gives his signal and shunshins inside. He's knocked out the unbound one immediately, with a blow to the head like he did the jounin. The next is the other jounin, easily subdued when unable to move. The other two don't pose a threat either.

He's already begun tying them up and sealing their chakra when Nara comes inside.

"Good work," Sakurai comments, "We'll take them to the base and come back here to take whatever useful information they have lying around."

.

[Shikamaru POV]

It's almost laughably easy, ambushing these nin with Haruno on his side. That man is fast and has obviously done this sort of thing a million times before. Shikamaru is a bit tired, after holding three of them still while they fight him, but… it doesn't even take a minute.

That kind of mastery of the shunshin should be forbidden.

The man can do that, fuinjutsu, some elemental manipulation and his sensing range is seventy metres… that's deserving of a title or something. ANBU Captain seems so bland, so non-indicative. Shikamaru hasn't seen Haruno in an outright fight yet, this was a planned and prepared ambush that would put most chunin to shame. He kind of wants to see it, now.

Asuma-sensei is very good with wind chakra, and no slouch in taijutsu or long-range combat. But he doesn't use the body flicker in quick succession to knock everyone unconscious within seconds. It's the more… ninja approach, if Shikamaru's honest. Quick and clean. He wonders what it would have been like, had Shikamaru not used the body-bind. Or had there been traps that Haruno would have sprung, even with how he just shunshined inside. Shikamaru stayed outside the whole time, just using his shadows and sensing. There was only ever the faintest disturbance when Haruno shunshined. That's incredible control.

It's not how Shikamaru would have gone about the ambush, but he'll definitely implement the strategy the next time he's with someone who is that fast. Shikamaru considers that once back in Konoha, Team Ten should practise the body-flicker technique a bit more. It's really useful, when the enemy doesn't have fuuinjutsu traps. And when they do, that's a job for ANBU anyway. Or specialised jounin.

The base is well-kept, if a bit dusty. The cells are in good condition, with only a small window, which are more like slits in the walls, each. It's been carved into the ground and parts of the jagged rock that form hills in the area. It hasn't been discovered because of fuinjutsu and its infrequent use, Haruno tells him. Although the man suspects that Sound knows of it, since Orochimaru is their Kage.

They strip the prisoners down to their underwear, tie them up, check the chakra suppressors, and shackle them to the walls. Best not to take any chances.

Then they return to the farmhouse.

This is all mostly done in silence, unless Haruno notices that Shikamaru has questions. He's observant. Shikamaru isn't used to strangers reading him so easily.

He's beginning to think the man's incredibly talented in everything, even for someone who has spent most of their career in ANBU. He must be something like a genius. And with that realisation, Shikamaru thinks, he figured out what everyone already knows. You don't survive ANBU for that long if you're not a little special.

Still, he doesn't want to know what the inside of Haruno's head is like.

It's a well-used house. Shikamaru notes the kunai marks in the wood where someone practised, probably bored. They go over the map of the area around Raishu on the table in the middle of the main room, which isn't marked, nor has it any indicators for stations on it. Not, that that's expected. Haruno does perform the dust-jutsu that makes fine earth particles stick where there's residue of fat, if someone touched specific points. Sometimes people aren't careful and trace out lines with their fingers. Nothing except for a few smudges at the corners where if must have been unfolded.

That it's folded tells them that it's not Konoha-stolen. Konoha rolls their maps and seals them away which keeps them legible and clean. It also makes it so it doesn't have to be coated and can be adjusted and corrected when there's new markings to be made. The ink can't fade or run even if it gets wet. It's quite detailed, too, with little markings for each farmhouse and borders for property.

"Do they make maps like this here?" Shikamaru asks, wondering if it might have been taken from the tax office in Raishu.

"We'll have to ask Sarutobi-san later," Haruno answers, inspecting the kitchen area. "Looks like someone kept it well-stocked. I figure this has been going on for a while, and they intended to run the operation for another two weeks at least."

"Did they not think Konoha would send a team to investigate?"

"The rebel fraction is small still, and Fujiouka would usually take care of it. We're here because his taxes are late and our information net reported some rebellious sentiment in the area. This has happened here before, so it's on the list for a routine check-up for this sort of thing anyway. If it weren't time for it, and we weren't to close to the start of a war, for which we need all resources we can control, especially on the borders, we wouldn't be here. I figure they expected us to concentrate on border patrols and the outposts rather than minor disturbances from farmers," Haruno says, bending over some drying plants. "Someone was intending to make paralytic poison, if I'm not mistaken."

"Ah," Shikamaru acknowledges as he moves to the sleeping area, four bedrolls and one larger bed. This must have been a couple's house before the Frost nin commandeered it. He searches them all carefully, no scrolls or hints at their mission parameters. Out-of-border missions don't tend to have those outside of the ninja's heads. There is no animal fur anywhere, so probably no summons with good noses. There aren't any big packs, just a few bundles full of changes of clothes and medical supplies. Weapons pouches.

He moves on to the bathroom, which is more of a small, added hut with a tub and a rudimentary construction leading to a water tank on its roof. Well. This is near the border to Hot Water, so there are probably nice hot springs nearby to take a proper bath. There is a small basin on top of a chest of drawers and an old, murky mirror. Shikamaru counts six toothbrushes.

He goes back to the main room, "There are six toothbrushes, Haruno-san."

Team leader sighs. "Well. Can you alert Yamanaka-san and Akimichi-san of this through the mind link?"

Shikamaru prods at them mentally, Ino opening the connection immediately. 'There's one ninja about whom we haven't captured. Keep an eye out.'

'Do you think they've noticed the disappearance of their team?' she asks.

'Maybe. But we took them out only an hour ago.'

'How many were there?'

'Two jounin, three chunin. I'm guessing they sent another chunin.'

'Okay. See you later.'

The link goes back to passive.

"My guess is they have someone stationed in the city, to watch for Konoha nin. If they're clever, they've already noted the absence of the patrolling nin and gone to report. But if they haven't noticed Sarutobi-san's entrance they're probably not near Fujiouka. We'll circle around the patrol route, and then the the town's side closer to Frost's border, look for signs of their passing. If there are none, we'll look near the town guard. If we don't find them, we'll make contact with Sarutobi-san before returning to the base."

"What about the civilian rebels?"

"We'll give their descriptions to your teammates later."

And so they go. The pace Haruno sets would be punishing if they kept this up for longer than half an hour. Where Shikamaru can feel himself begin to sweat, Haruno seems unaffected. He's beginning to think that the man is just monstrously fit and competent. Not Maito Guy like fit, but definitely above average for most jounin. Shikamaru isn't sure if ANBU does that for you, or if it's just Haruno keeping up a training regime that makes him able to keep up this kind of speed without breaking a sweat for a couple hours. He wonders if Asuma could do the same. They both smoke, and they've both had to cut down on A Ranks since they've had younger nin to take care of in the village.

But Shikamaru is getting distracted. He focuses back on searching for tracks.

There's no sign of a passing nin where they look, so either they took the time to cover tracks, or they're not there yet. Nothing by the town guard. Cloaking their chakra even more carefully, they make for Asuma's location where Shikamaru can just about feel him moving around at a civilian pace.

As they draw closer, ready to climb into the small castle-manour-hybrid, Haruno pauses. Enemy nin near comrade, he signs. Then he indicates that he'll capture them in a genjutsu and to be ready in case they break free.

Shikamaru follows his team leader cautiously, into a ranger where he can just about sense the tightly controlled chakra beside Asuma. Haruno's handsigns are quick and smooth. He's sure that if he were a better sensor, he'd only just feel the gentlest coating of chakra sinking into foreign coils.

It's an insane level of skill.

The only reason someone like that would be forced to retire from ANBU is that Konoha needs another big name to intimidate, to turn the tide of a battlefield. And that is why Haruno is in command. That is why he's here with them, getting experience working with nin below his rank and far below his ability. And, most likely, to get him to familiarise himself with those who will have to sit in positions of power, should the current clan heads die.

Shikamaru thinks that Haruno knows it, even. He acquiesces, but the reason he doesn't take more of a firm lead on this mission is because he doesn't want to be marked down as someone who is dutiful, or diligent. And he's given them a choice about the interrogation. That's not the kind of compassion you'd expect from an ANBU retiree. Those who Shikamaru's met are cold, and hard. They expect someone to step up and harden equally, because it must be done. And if they have the chance to push someone of sufficient intelligence in the direction, they generally will.

The problem for Haruno's approach is, Shikamaru's father has often said that the jounin who can't trust their subordinates to do what they deem best for the situation aren't ones that he wants in command. Delegation. Trust. Focus on one's own expertise. That's what makes a good commander. Shikamaru wonders whether Haruno wants that kind of position.

The enemy nin who is henge'd as one of Fujiouka's advisors is talking to Asuma, standing where he was caught in Haruno's genjutsu. "No, they're here, I don't care how important this is, or how long we've been waiting to cut off this part of the Land of Fire, we need to fucking go! – no, this isn't a routine check like it's been before. This is the Hokage's son they've sent! And you can bet he's not alone. So- let's go! – Airi, now's not the time to-"

And then he breaks it, finding himself taken out of commission as swiftly as two jounin can manage. Which is to say, instantly.

"Anything interesting, before we got to hear him?" Haruno questions.

"Another name: Fan. Other than that, he appeared to be under the impression that he'd rejoined his comrades remarkably quickly. He must be good with a shunshin."

It turns out the nin was tasked with showing Asuma to the records room after his arrival, which was a surprise to Fujiouka. If no routine control ever checked the records room officially, they might have just broken in, but Konoha has no need for that. That makes it likely that whomever was sent here previously appeared to be under the impression that this was not at all a mission, and just a front for a holiday. At best. At worst, they have someone in the missions office who did not give out the proper information to the ninja sent previously.

"He won't be using it again," Haruno says and then looks at the record scrolls spread all over the large table. "Any interesting finds?"

"Nothing so far. I'm guessing interrogation will get us more."

"Yes, most likely. We have six Frost nin in total. Stop by tonight and bring your other students. Nara-san and I will search the area a bit more. It sounds like this place was thoroughly compromised without anyone's knowledge."

So they dump their next prisoner in another cell, check the others, of whom only the jounin have woken, but were unable to escape. Then they're back to scouring the land for signs of people passing through who shouldn't be. Which is easier said than done. It involves a whole lot of moving around, inspecting this trail or that farm without many findings, and what they do find could easily be attributed to civilian passing or the rebellion efforts.

Seems like they really will have to torture all relevant information out of them.

.

[Ino POV] **TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of TORTURE**

Ino hates the look on Chouji's face. Hates that slightly desperate determination not to throw up as they watch Haruno inflict minour wounds on his captive. He's using genjutsu as well, so he doesn't have to do much, but those whimpers…

And the choked off screams.

That animal keening sound from the back of the throat. Ino had to squash her impulses to stop Haruno more than once. That noise should never-

"You know I have the rest of your team to interrogate, don't you? So you know I'm not afraid to do a little… permanent damage, yeah?"

"Go to hell!"

"No need, we're already here."

"I'm not telling you shit, you-"

"But you already have, Ryu-kun. I just want a little more detail and then you won't be permanently maimed, nor will you be the first to be sent to our special Torture and Interrogation division back in Konoha."

"Please, you tree-fuckers don't have it in you-" A cut off scream.

"Don't we? I'm tempted to send you off now, just to show you how wrong you are, but alas… perhaps I can give you a taste of how well we manage to propagate our way to sunshine and rainbows."

And then there's a lot more screaming. Ino has to look away when the first peel of skin comes off.

Chouji throws up. The smell of his bile stings. But her eyes are already watering. Her throat is closed up, though.

Shikamaru presses his hands to his eyes. Maybe he thinks he can chase away the image. Ino stares at the wall because she knows he can't.

Asuma's knuckles are white from clenching his fists. The rest of him is in his normal posture.

And then Haruno comes out, looking no worse for wear, just carefully blank as his victim sobs and whimpers. "He'll talk tomorrow I reckon."

Ino hates that blankness more than anything. He just- he just tortured someone and-

Ino will never forget those screams.

The way they stabbed themselves into her memory-

Haruno wipes his bloodied hands on a cloth, like she would if she'd just been oiling her weapons. His henge melts away to reveal his normal features as he scrutinises each of them. Calm. Controlled. Almost casual.

That's-

"Get some rest for now, if you can," he orders them. "He's the only one I'm starting on tonight. Tomorrow I want you to give a fully detailed report of what you saw me do to either myself or Sarutobi-san. It will help you compartmentalise. And… you will not sleep separately tonight. I will share the night's watch with Sarutobi-san."


End file.
